Not So Little Anymore
by Jassy Smiley
Summary: "Shh, its okay, it's all right. You have to be strong now. She would want you to. You have to be strong."  Prims POV - What happened when Katniss went into the Hunger Games. A lot better than the summary :D
1. Reaping Day

_**Hiya anyone who found this without meaning to XD**_  
_**Um, well this is my first fanfic so please be nice lol. :) **_  
_**I won't beg you for a review... actually yeah i will PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!**_  
_**lol kidding. **_  
_**But really -_-**_

_**Ooooh! I forgot before - The Hunger Games isn't mine :L wish it could be, but then again,  
**__**I also wish peanut butter was healthy so i could eat it out of the jar without feeling sick. :D  
The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. Not me. :(**_

_**yeah... **_

* * *

Reaping Day.

I'm so scared. When I remember, the world goes fuzzy. Then I realise it's just because I'm shaking.

My first Reaping.

I roll over to look at the imprint Katniss has left on the bed. Of course she's up early, hunting. Guilt courses through me, hot and quick. She's the best sister in Panem. The best in the world.

I'm lucky. My name is only entered once this year. I don't even _know_ how many times hers is. The tesserae we received a few days ago is in a bulk pack, but I'm sure she put her name in more than twice.

I sit up, and the bed creaks loudly. I pull my knees to my chest and Buttercup sits on my feet, warming them. I stroke his fur gently and he purrs. I chew my lip as my anxiety threatens to overthrow me.

I wonder briefly how Katniss does it, time after time. Even when Father died, she was so calm, collected. Stoic. Try as I might, I could never be like that, not really. I'm much better than Mother, it's true. But every once in awhile, I creep out of the house into this tiny garden wedged between the laundry down the road and a clothes-shop, and weep for everything that's happened to us.

This is my first Reaping, and the only year that Katniss, Gale and I will all be in the raffle of sorts. It's a sick prize at the end, even if you win the Hunger Games. I'm only twelve and my chances of even surviving the first ten minutes, should my name be read out, are miserably low.

I take a breath. Despite Katniss' over protectiveness, I am stronger than I look. I will not make this any harder for any of us. Katniss and Gale's names have both been entered numerous times. Mine was only entered once. I shouldn't worry.

I gently guide Buttercup off my feet and stand up, stretching my arms above my head. Mother has already laid out my outfit for today. It's a little ridiculous – our best dresses are for the Reaping. On Reaping Day, everyone is to look presentable. My skirt and blouse were once Katniss' of course, but they're still the prettiest thing I own.

I walk into the kitchen at the same time as Katniss, who's already done her daily rounds. Mother fusses about my hair with a ribbon, and I wish once again that I had Katniss' hair. My gold curls are a mess, as always, and not a single curl will lie where it's meant to.

Katniss barely eats, despite Mother's coaxing. Sometimes I think she hates her. I wouldn't be surprised. After Father died, Mother just shut down. For months, she barely did anything other than sleep and eat. Poor Katniss had to take charge.

Of course, that's when we all met Gale, so it's not like nothing good came of it at all.

Gale.

I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks and feel the odd urge to giggle, even though nothing is remotely amusing. Sometimes I wonder how no-one could notice that I get all tongue-tied around him. Of course, most people are too busy watching him watch her anyway.

I don't resent Katniss, even for this. She's so completely clueless about it. He's been in love with her for forever. I've been in love with him for forever. I don't think Katniss has ever even thought about anyone like that.

I sigh, and Katniss tucks in my shirt properly. I never can reach the back. She calls me her little duckling sometimes; supposedly the shirt makes a little duck tail at my back. I smile at her and we walk down to the Reaping together.

I can feel Katniss' tension building the closer we get to our destination. I grab hold of her hand and she shoots me a quick smile. It's laced with anxiety and fear.

Gale's family is already there when we arrive; Katniss immediately goes to him. She's so worried, both Gale and I can tell.

I scan the town square. Every family in the district is there. I see several of my friends from school, dressed up for the Reaping. Their faces are sallow and thin. Under their eyes are dark smudges thick enough to be bruises.

In the Seam, our family and the Hawthornes' are probably best off. Katniss and Gale keep us fed and, ultimately, alive. I don't know what I'd do without Katniss. I admire every inch of her. I hope one day I'll be like her.

The ceremony begins, and my mind drifts. I can't help it, but it really doesn't matter anyway. It takes forever until the names are announced.

Effie Trinket has dyed her hair pink this year. She looks ridiculous; paired with her silly accent, she could be a clown from the history books we read. I snort inwardly.

Districts 12's mentor, Haymitch is typically drunk - I swear he's even more intoxicated than last year. He trips when he gets on stage, and falls into Effie's lap, much to her horrification. I giggle quietly. The corners of Katniss' mouth twitch and Gale laughs outright.

Fact: Gale's laugh is the best in the entire world. It's like liquid happiness seeping into me. I smile and feel complete just then, with my Mother's hand in mine and Katniss and Gale both close to me.

My mind wanders, and I'm dimly aware that Effie comes to the front of the stage. I'm smiling, imagining me and Gale in the little garden on a Saturday; I'm eighteen and there's no need to worry for the Reapings anymore. I am in a moment of total bliss.

And then I hear Effie trinket say the two worst words she could possibly say, following the names of Katniss and Gale.

"Primrose Everdeen."

I collect myself, prying my fingers from Mother's grasp, and ignoring both Katniss' and Gale's sharp intakes of breath.

I walk with an odd sense of calm - the shock has made me into a sort of robot, just walking without really knowing what I'm doing - toward the stage before hearing Katniss' voice prove the weeks of nightmares to be true:

"I volunteer."


	2. Be Strong

**_Thankyou so much to the people who reviewed Chapter 1 :)  
You lot made my day... Yeah, I think I lost my life somewhere lol.  
But seriously, thankyou :D_**

**_

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_**

Mother's crying again.

I can't believe she's doing this. She promised Katniss. She _promised_.

It's like Father's dying all over again. Except it's not Father.

My beautiful, selfless, stoic sister is going in the Games. A wave of grief washes over me and I excuse myself to go cry.

I stumble into my room and abruptly soak my pillow with my tears. I can't shake the feeling that this has all been a dream, even now.

I replay the scene in my head.

_I walk up on stage, unable to speak or even think. I just keep walking. Up, up, up. Breathe in breathe out. Don't break down. You're not as strong as Katniss, but you're not weak. At least it isn't her. At least it isn't her. At least-_

"_I volunteer!"_

_It's her. _

_I barely have time to react, my whole body goes numb. I vaguely think that I must be dreaming. Yeah, that's probably right. It's just a dream. Any minute now I'll wake up, and it won't be my name that's reaped. I've only been entered once! It can't be my name they called out. _

_This thought has barely crossed my mind when Katniss is being lead to the Justice Building. I scream and try and run for her, but Gale throws his arms around me and carries me back home._

I cry harder into my pillow and Buttercup miaows softly. He nudges his head against my hand for attention.

Even he misses her.

There's a knock at the door and I quickly compose myself. My tears dry quickly on my cheeks without rubbing, but my eyes are red when I answer the door. I check in a pot when I reach the kitchen; it's ridiculously obvious, but what can I do? I can vaguely hear Mother still bawling in the next room. I am going to drown here._ There's no life buoy on this sinking ship_, I think.

I creak open the door.

Gale.

He's losing it.

I mean literally.

His eyes are as red as mine, but they have a crazed, awful look I've never seen before. His clothes are ragged, like he wasn't watching while hunting and got attacked by something. His face looks sallow and hollow. Underneath his eyes are dark smudges that scream of sleep deprivation. I let out a barely audible gasp.

It's been three days.

I begin to cry again, and he immediately looks guilty. I look up at his face and know he's thinking of the promise he made to my sister.

"Shhh, Prim, It's okay, It's alright. I know. You have to be strong now, for Katniss. That's what she would want. You have to be strong. It's okay."

I'm crying harder now, even as he comforts me. His arms fold around me and he strokes my hair.

"I c-c-c-_can't_. I've tried," I sob "I don't know how she did it. Everyone's gone now. Mother just sits and cries all the time. Father died years ago. Heck, _you_ can't even take care of yourself."

He drops me immediately.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He demands indignantly.

I glare at him, hiccupping. "Look at yourself, Gale. She's been gone three days and everyone's broken the promises they made to her. Mother's gone mental. You got attacked by some animal, and there hasn't been meat for days. And I can't stop _crying_. How the _hell_ am I meant to be _strong_?"

Shock passes over his face. It's funny. I don't even care. Something inside me has just snapped, and for some reason I don't feel like trying to repair it. I've done enough repairing in the past few days anyway,

It feels nice to lose it sometimes.

"You _promised_ her you'd keep all of us safe. You can't even keep yourself safe! What have Rory and Posy and everyone been eating Gale? I've been living on milk for the last three days. When's the last time you hunted? What can _I_ do if the best hunter in District 12 can't save his own skin?" I rant.

I suddenly stop my tyrant as I catch a glimpse of Gale's face.

Shock. Anger. Guilt. Grief. Resignation.

He stares at me for a second. Then leaves, without saying anything.

Buttercup joins me to watch a rerun of the other Reapings. It's possibly more depressing than the first time.

Districts One, Two and Four have typically promising tributes, most volunteers. They're all fit and look as though they've been training, even though it's against the rules.

Another promising tribute from 11 – strong, male, fit. He looks giant.

A girl my age is the other tribute from 11. She's also tiny, and also was named after a flower. My heart aches when I see her come forward. None of _her_ sisters volunteer for her. Half are too young. Her small frame is highlighted next to her fellow tribute; he would look massive next to anyone.

Then the reapings from 12 are shown again. I watch my name being called out. I watch myself go up the stairs, my shirt tucked out slightly at the back. To my surprise, I don't shake at all. The shock must have won there, I look completely controlled. Then, for the second time, I watch my sister volunteer to take my place. Watching it on the television makes it seem more true; she is in the Hunger Games. She will be forced to either kill or be killed. My sister could die in the next few days, and it's my fault.

I should have been the one to into the Games; it was my name called out.

I start crying again and I can't stop. Everything I said to Gale today was true.

I cry myself to sleep that night, on the hearth rug in front of the battered television. Katniss' arrival is playing as I fall asleep. She's smiling and blowing kisses, on an amazing chariot of fire. Her costume is amazing; she's literally on fire herself. I barely recognize her visually, but when I look at her eyes, I see the determination that's always been there.

It feels like she's there with me.


	3. Hunting

**_HI! Yay to everyone who's reviewed! I checked just then and I had SEVEN! You guys are epic! :D  
So big thankyou to: Vanity Storm, JaZzI of AwEsOmEnEsS, Archer117, nerdsman92 and especially  
chococatluvr123!  
If you guys have any ideas about the story, put them in reviews. :) _**

**_Jassy_**

* * *

The next morning I'm up at dawn.

I've had next to no sleep, but it doesn't matter. I'm definitely not going _back_ to sleep. I keep having nightmares about people I know in the Hunger Games; Gale, Rory, me, Posy, Katniss. _Of course, Katniss is in the Hunger Games_, I remind myself glumly as I trudge into the kitchen, bleary-eyed.

It's so quiet the whole of District 12 must be asleep. Not that it matters anyway. I'm just as alone when everyone's awake.

Yesterday runs through my mind and I bite my lip guiltily. Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm the one pushing people away. After all, it was my name called out. I've been so depressed lately, just thinking about it. I can't imagine what Katniss is going through right now.

I go to the kitchen and begin clearing the bench. The day after Katniss left, a cleaned the entire house, top to bottom. I even swept the ceiling. I have no passtimes; School seems like a waste of time when my sister is fighting for her life, I can't concentrate on reading, We're running far too low on medicinal herbs for me to heal anyone and we don't really have enough money for me to pursue either art or music (not that I'm complaining - I'm terrible at both in any case). It seems like the only thing I do since Katniss has been gone is clear up mess. Gale's mess. Mother's mess. It's better than dealing with my own.

It kind of... sucks, for lack of a better word. But what else is there to do?

_Knock Knock_.

I raise my eyebrows at Buttercup, who hisses loudly in response. Checking my appearance quickly in the pot on the stove, I run to the door on my tiptoes.

It's Gale.

My expression must show my surprise, because he immediately launches into an explanation.

"You were right," he starts, guiltily. "I've broken my promise. I haven't hunted without Catnip in years, and it's doing my head in. I was watching last night and I thought I'd have a mental breakdown. I- I'm sorry."

I bite my lip and look down at my shoes.

"It's okay. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have said any of that. I was just so... mad you know? Like I said, I don't get how she does it. She's always so calm and strong. I could never be like that." I feel so childish admitting I'll never be like my sister.

When I look up, Gale's grinning for some reason.

"Well, today's your day." He smiles at me.

"Huh?"

"I need a new hunting partner," he explains "and I'm counting on you."

* * *

I huff and puff and heave.

Gale laughs and I glare at him.

This is how I've spent the last three hours.

Gale has been incredibly patient, but I know I'm a horrible hunting partner. I can't shoot anything, or even run fast enough to get away from anything. I just can't shoot it. My aim is good enough, but I just start thinking about how it had a family and a life and...

I sigh quietly.

On the upside, I'm wearing Father's jacket and Katniss' hunting boots. They smell like her. It's thrilling almost, dressing up like her. It makes me feel less like me. _Does that make sense?_ I wonder. _Who wants to be someone other than themself?_

I stop for a second to catch my breath when I hear Gale cry out. It's more shock than terror, but still, I run faster than I have all morning.

When I get there, he's trying to shake some sort of wild dog off his arm. The dog has a good grip though; its teeth sink further into Gale's flesh every second. The thought makes me a little queasy.

Quick as a flash, a whip Katniss' arrows out of the quiver and hold it against the bow. I don't even see it; I just see the dog go limp and Gale shove it off him.

He grins at me.

"Right in the heart. Needless to say that is the best shot you have had all day. Truly Katniss-worthy."

I smile for a second, then realise he's bleeding.

"Shoot!" I say, slipping Katniss' backpack off of my shoulder .

"I can't," he jokes weakly.

I roll my eyes and pry his fingers off his arm. There's a bite there, but it's only shallow.

I immediately begin cleaning it with water from a nearby stream. It's salty, but that's good. It'll keep it clean and without infection.

Gale yelps when I pour it on and I laugh, earning a glare, which makes me laugh more. I pour a decent amount on and then dab it gently with a cloth. There's a small tube of antiseptic ointment in the first aid kit, which I give to him to dab on. I end up doing it myself anyway; he's totally hopeless.

We walk back to the district in the late afternoon. Gale grins at me, and I flash him a smile back.

When I get home, Mother's still in bed, asleep. Her room smells faintly salty from all the crying. I sigh and don't bother waking her up.

I flick on the television, guilty that I haven't been watching as much as I thought I would. There are recaps of everything going 24/7, commentaries, reruns of the reapings, etc. I've only really been watching the new segments, which show up at about 6pm.

Tonight, they show the scores from the training session. The Careers' scores are all typically high, with eights, nines and tens. Peeta pulls a reasonably high score too, but the real surprise is Katniss.

She pulls an eleven.

I feel giddy with relief. I smile, picking up Buttercup and moving closer to the television. He miaows when her image appears and I'm dancing around the room.

She's coming home, I tell myself.

She's coming home.


	4. If I Could Just Help Her

**_Hi-Hi!  
Okay, so I admit, this one isn't as good, but it's neccessary for the story to move along :)  
Thankyou again to all the epic reviewers - please keep it coming :D  
I'll put up the next one at the same time; it's ready anyway._**

Jassy :D

**_

* * *

_**

The next day we go hunting again, but only for a few hours. Mother is in no way fit to be healing others, so after hunting me and Gale come back home. He's hopeless, of course, but I'm grateful for the company. He talks to me throughout the day, and I don't feel quite so lonely. It's nice.

"Did you see the scores last night?" he asks as I'm treating yet another cold.

I nod vaguely, pulling on rubber gloves.

"Can you pass me the jar of honey?"

He locates it on the shelf near the door and passes it to me. The other day, we spent two hours re-labelling all the jars after an incorrectly labelled jar caused blood-poisoning. Mother accidentally switched half the lids in her state; she kept coming into the kitchen, mixing random tonics and then going back into her room.

"She's coming home Prim. I can feel it."

I smile at him. That's how I feel too. There's some sort of... vibe about her. She's small, but she can win this thing. I know she can. Katniss never breaks her promises.

The girl with the cold sniffs quietly and I give her a handkerchief. She blows into it and sneezes loudly and violently. Her sneezes morph into a coughing fit. Her breathing is raspy; like sandpaper. She looks awfully frail; unnaturally thin and pale so her eyes almost seem to jut out from the rest of her body. When I lift her shirt up to check her breathing, her swollen stomach and ribs stick out in a horrible, unnatural way.

I sigh. District 12's never been in good shape, but lately it seems to be getting worse. We've had so many people die from things as common as colds and bugs; last week the death toll for viruses was thirty in the last month. I frown slightly; when I listen carefully, the breathing sounds wrong, like there's something stuck in the windpipe. Gluggy almost.

"Deep breath in and hold." I instruct her, keeping my voice gentle and calm.

She does as I tell her and I listen again with Mother's stethescope to make sure. There's no doubting it, though. Chest infection.

She isn't able to afford either the examination or the tonic for her infection, but I give both to her for free anyway. I feel terrible for the poor thing. She looks like a walking corpse, and can barely stand when we're finished. I hope she lasts at least another week.

Gale glances my way when she's left. I'm clearing up some of the herbs and I don't notice him looking at me until I look up.

"What's wrong?" I ask absent-mindedly.

"Nothing," he says, still watching me. "Just... why did you do that?"

I grab a _reasonably_ clean cloth from the box under the table and start rubbing it clean. The kitchen always smells, so I soak the cloth in some lavender oil I collected when we hunted.

"Do what?" I ask, throwing the cloth into a metal bucket of water. I light a fire in the fireplace and put the bucket on top of it. I throw a few other cloths and handkerchiefs into the mixture as well, and some wildflowers for good measure.

"Give her the treatment for free." His eyebrows knit together in the middle, like I'm some sort of puzzle he's trying to figure out.

Gale watches me as I load a large metal container with all of today's dishes, pots and cups. There's a surprisingly large amount; I offered most of the sick or wounded some vegetable soup today. I'd found a bunch of wild herbs and onion roots in the woods while we (meaning Gale) were hunting.

I shrug, not really understanding.

"She couldn't afford it. I don't want her to die."

I sit down on the rug and Buttercup immediately jumps into my lap. I run my fingers through his soft fur and he purrs contentedly.

Gale raises his eyebrows.

"She's going to die anyway," he pointed out. "Her body can't handle an infection while she's already suffering from malnutrition."

I flinch automatically, and Gale backtracks before I can apologise.

"I'm sorry – that was tactless," he says. He always treats me like I'm _his_ little sister. It's a little irritating.

"No, I'm fine," I tell him. "It's true... it's just... It felt wrong to just not do anything, you know? If I could just help her..."

I sigh. It's useless, I know, but I feel like it might make a difference.

Gale looks at me a little sadly, like he wishes I wasn't in this sort of position. He looks as though he wants to comfort me but doesn't feel like he knows me enough.

I abruptly change the subject.

"They're showing the interviews tonight," I say in a falsely bright tone. "Katniss'll have to bite her tongue to keep from commenting."

Gale smiles. "Ha! She only speaks one language – sarcasm."

We laugh because we know we both adore my sister. She's my world and his too.

"You should watch it here," I say. "Rory and your mum and everyone can stay."

Gale thinks about it for a while, then shakes his head.

"It's fine," he protests. "We'd just be intruding and-"

"Please?" I ask quietly, staring at the floor. I flinch again, realising immediately how needy and helpless I sound. Not a thing like Katniss. I keep trying to be like her, and I keep coming off all needy and weird.

There's a pause that's long enough I think he's trying to figure out how to say no. When look up though, he just shrugs and says he'll try.

A sit there a while after he leaves, trying in vain to prolong the inevitable. Then I sigh.

It's time to wake up Mother.


	5. The Aroma of Misery

**_Hi! I promised, so here it is. :D  
Review! :D_**

**_Jassy_**

It smells. Really, really badly.

I feel guilty because this is the first thought I have when I walk into the room.

But it's true.

The room itself is disgusting. She has a tantrum a few days ago and ended up throwing practically everything she owned at the wall at least once. Glass litters the floor, shattered into so many pieces it just looks like glitter dust. A plant is dying in the corner of the room from lack of water and sunlight; the blinds have been drawn for the whole three days. Mouldy food is piled up on her bedside table and some evil-looking liquid I might once have recognised as medicinal tea is festering in a puddle on the floor; she knocked over the glass in her sleep. I don't want to know what she's been using as a toilet.

But the smell isn't any of that. It's her.

My mother isn't strong, but I doubt I've ever seen her as weak as she is now. She hasn't washed in three days; she just smells of tears and dirt. Like someone who's just given up completely. Her face is caked with a muddy substance, as though she rubbed her face into the dirt and tried to cry it off. She's sitting up on her bed, just facing the wall, her blonde curls streaked with grime. Her eyes have dark shadows underneath them and her face is extremely pale.

I want to feel mad at her, but the second she opens her eyes and stares at me, all my anger disappears.

She doesn't even turn her head; her eyes follow me. It's a little creepy, but she's been this way before. Last time Katniss was the one who helped her though. Once again I'm forced into my sister's shoes and once again I'm surprised at the discomfort they bring.

I coax Mother downstairs and fill a bucket with hot water and wildflowers from the woods. Using a fresh cloth from the cupboard, I help her wash away the grime. I rub at the layer of dirt vigorously, removing all of the mould and filth. I have to rub hard to get her clean, hard enough that the skin underneath becomes quite red. I worry about whether it's hurting her, but she just stands there the whole time, barely moving. She still hasn't talked.

I have to do it three times to rid her of the stench. I can't even describe it really; I'm used to her smelling like herbs from treating people all day. Her usual smell is fresh, clean. This just smells like... grief. There's no other way to describe it. It's abstract, sure, but it's true.

I pull a floral dress from her closet and try to get her to put it on, but she's hopeless. I pull it over her head, but she is still standing there when I'm done. I've fixed the outside for the most part, but I don't even know where to start with the inside. I don't know what to do. If I yell at her like I did Gale, she'll just break down even further. If she continues on like this much longer, I might go insane.

I try everything, giving her food, putting on the television, getting her to hold Buttercup. I spray lavender and rose water on her to improve her scent. I read her a book. I fix her a hot drink with medicinal qualities. I wrap a blanket around her small frame and hug her, but it's like hugging a doll. Her arms hold no comfort for me. I may as well be hugging a corpse.

Finally, I give up trying to help her and fling myself onto her bed, fighting tears. The whole world has gone horribly wrong. I feel so alone. Taking a deep breath, I hum a tune I can't remember where I picked up. Music always helps. It's like my secret saviour. Katniss used to sing me to sleep when I was little. She had the most beautiful voice – just like Dad.

_Hush my little baby,  
Please don't cry,  
Let me sing you a lullaby,  
Across the sea,  
You'll hear me sing,  
Underneath the wings,  
I'll sing to you, as we fly,  
A mockingjay lullaby._

I close my eyes and imagine the story that the words tell. I feel as though I'm part of the music, flying with the birds and singing in the wind.

Then I feel someone's arms around me, and it brings comfort and warmth.

"Your father used to sing that to you," she says.

She's crying again, but she's here. Mother's back.

She strokes my hair gently and now we're both crying. It's not all sad crying; there's a trickle of hope amongst all the negativity.

"You promised her," I whisper sadly.

"I know." She says. "I'm sorry."

We stay like that for a few hours, just hugging. I'm slowly drifting off when there's a knock at the door.


	6. Knock, Knock

Oh no.

No no no no no no no no no no noooooooooooooooo.

_Please go away. I look terrible. _

I peer at myself in Mother's looking glass, and immediately wish I hadn't. I'm shocked at the changes in my appearance in a few short hours.

My hair is matted with tears, my nose and eyes red. Tear-tracks stain my cheeks, and my skin is unnaturally pale. There's a smudge on my cheek of something unidentifiable. I smell from hours of cleaning. My clothes are creased and rumpled. My lack of sleep has finally caught up to me, leaving dark bruises under my puffy eyes. My voice is raspy when I try to talk.

I quickly explain to Mother what the Hawthornes are doing here.

"It's okay," I tell her. "We can just say that I got sick and-"

She shakes her head firmly.

"No," she says. "Quickly, clean yourself up. I'll meet you in the kitchen."

_She_ looks fine, thank goodness. I'd managed to clean her well enough before that all she really needed to do was run a comb quickly through her hair. She bends down to kiss me on the cheek, before pulling on a clean apron and leaving me to clean up.

I stare at the doorway a minute after she leaves, smiling to myself. She really is back now.

I rise quickly and change my clothes. Pulling on a green tunic and brown leggings that used to be Katniss', I turn to the looking glass again to see what can be done for my face. I wash my face with a damp cloth and spray on some lavender and rosewater to rid myself of the smell. I pull the comb through my own golden curls, yanking fiercely at the tangled mess. I end up tying it into a bun with a ribbon; some days I love my hair, but others it really is impossible. I skip into the kitchen, plastering a smile onto my face.

Mother's busy in the kitchen, cooking. The image is comforting, and my smile is no longer false. She spots me standing in the doorway and hands me a plate of bread rolls the baker dropped off earlier to take into the living room. The baker's been coming around here a lot actually, to check up on her. I smirk slightly, but she doesn't notice.

Everyone's eyes are glued to the television screen when enter the living. They've just started the interviews; District One's female tribute - Glitter? Oh, Glimmer - is talking to Caesar as I walk in. I can't help but notice how Gale's eyes especially are glued to the provocative outfit she's wearing.

I cough loudly, and they all look up. Gale's cheeks colour, like he can tell I was watching him. I pass out the rolls, which Posy, Vick and Rory swallow practically whole. I look at them sympathetically; it's too hard to obtain food nowadays, and there's always little of what we have. Especially since now our weekly meat has been halved with Katniss gone.

Mother brings out a tureen of Greasy Sae's dog soup. I shudder inwardly; I'm starving but I can't stop picturing a tiny little puppy, minding its own business...

"Prim?"

I look up. Gale is looking at me weirdly, and I realise Mother's been holding out a bowl for the last three minutes. Feeling the heat rising to my cheeks, I accept the bowl and ignore the knot of guilt in my stomach_. I need to eat_, I tell myself.

I sip at the soup absent-mindedly, watching the interviews. Caesar helps out the tributes who are finding the interviews hard. He's been doing this job for years now. I vaguely wonder if he ever gets sick of interviewing people. If he enjoys interviewing kids. If he's guilty that twenty-three of them are going to die. If he truly cares for any of the tributes.

District Four's on the television now. It's starting to become quite boring. I clear up all the bowls and take them into the kitchen, dumping them all in the metal container. I add some hot water and soap and let it soak for a little while, before rubbing them clean with a piece of cloth. I put them back in the cupboards, listening to the interviews from the kitchen.

When I come back in, District Eleven is on. The little girl is dressed to look a little like a fairy in the ancient tales. She looks magical in her outfit, with tiny wings attached to her dress. Her eyes are filled with awe, and I can tell she's never seen anything so pretty in her life. That makes two of us. She chats to Caesar with a serious look on her face.

Even though she's the same age, she looks so young up there. Imagine if it was me...

Gale must think the same thing, because he suddenly hugs me, and then Rory. I'm a little surprised; he doesn't really _hug_ that often, and in the past four or five days, I've felt his arms around me more than every other time put together.

"...so don't count me out," she says seriously.

Caesar smiles at her, his blue lips making him look like Jack Frost.

I've completely missed the reason for not counting her out.

Thresh is on next; his interview seems painfully slow. We're so close to seeing Katniss...

And then she's there.

Gale gasps audibly, but hardly anyone notices. We're all staring at Katniss in complete shock. For perhaps the first time in her life, my sister is... stunning.

Not that she isn't pretty; she's attractive enough, but in the Seam, we've really only been able to afford second-hand clothes; usually they don't even fit right on her. Whoever her stylist is, he's a genius.

Katniss is wearing a floor-length dress covered entirely in red, orange and yellow jewels. They glint in the lights of the interview room. She's glowing softly as the lights reflect on the gems, making the image on screen seem almost surreal. I look at Mother anxiously, worried she might start crying. She just smiles softly, maybe a little sadly.

"So what is your favourite thing about the Capitol so far?"

I blink. Caesar is interviewing Katniss already.

She bites her lip nervously, and I can tell she's trying to figure out the best way to answer. I look back at the others; they're still spellbound by her appearance.

"The lamb stew," she answers.

Gale snorts, and the spell is broken. Everyone stops staring to laugh.

Caesar smiles, and agrees with her. They discuss the stew for awhile.

_Only Katniss, _I think, smiling at the screen.

Then I realise everyone's staring at me. Bemused, I turn my attention back to the television. She's talking about me.

"My little sister," she says. There's been no real emotion in her eyes for the entire interview – except now. There's a light inside of them, a spirit sort of. Like a match has been struck and the fire's spreading throughout her. "She's only twelve. And I love her more than anything else in the world."

Gale's arms slip around me again, and for the third time today, I'm aware that I'm crying.

"I love you too Katniss," I murmur softly.

The bell rings, and her interview's ended. Mother's about to turn off the television, but I point out that we may as well watch Peeta's interview – it's the only one left. Gale and Hazelle shrug, agreeing to stay for the last five minutes.

Caesar continues through Peeta's interview, asking him the same questions as all the other male tributes.

"So, have you got a girl waiting for you back home?" Caesar winks.

Peeta colours slightly.

"Well, there is this one girl... but she didn't even know I existed until the Reaping."

Caesar sympathises.

"But hey, it'll probably work out. I mean, you win, you go home, and live happily ever after."

_Oh no_. I know what's going to happen before it does.

"That won't really help in these circumstances..." Peeta trails off.

_No no no no no nooooo_. Poor Gale. He doesn't know any of this.

I place my hands over my eyes and watch through splayed fingers. Gale shoots me a questioning look and I bite my lip.

"Why not?" asks Caesar, amazed.

_Don't say it,_ I plead silently. _She's going to kill you if you do..._

I almost laugh at this thought. If it comes down to it, she's going to kill him either way. My thought wasn't meant to be literal, but the Games don't work any other way.

"Because-" Peeta stammers. "Because-"

I look at Gale's face as Peeta chokes out the words.

"Because she came here with me."


	7. Where Are You?

**_Hiya :D_**

**_Okay, I'm warning you now this chapter is kinda random LOL.  
It's probably not as good either, but here me out :L _**

**_Review! Or i will shoot you with a banana. :)_**

**_The Hunger Games is not mine. Neither is that jar of peanut butter. _**

**_Kay. Au revoir. :)_**

Gale stares at the television for a few moments, then walks out of the house, without talking to anyone.

Hazelle sighs tiredly and thanks Mother for letting them stay to watch. She picks up Posy, who's fallen asleep, and motions Vick and Rory towards the door. Posy's little brown head rests on her mother's shoulder, and Vick nudges at Hazelle's hand impatiently. Rory gives me a quick hug before taking Vick's hand.

"Prim," she says softly over her shoulder. I look up at her. She's peering at me with sad, grey eyes. "If you see Gale... tell him to come home please."

She doesn't expect us to see him. Her request is merely cautionary; she'd feel bad if she didn't say anything. She hoists Posy up and makes sure Rory and Vick are right behind, before heading out the door.

Mother seems far too stunned at Peeta's exclamation. I think everyone's overreacting, frankly. She's still staring at the television, even though it's off. As though she expects it to blow up in a few seconds or something. When I ask if I can go outside to feed Lady, she merely nods.

I really hope she's not depressed again.

I get up, brush the fresh creases out of my tunic, and head out the door. I pause in the doorway, turning to look back at Mother. _Surely she's noticed I'm not there anymore? Or at least figured something might be wrong?_ She's still staring at the television. I let out an exasperated sigh.

It's freezing outside. There's a thin layer of ice on the dirt ground, and the air is brisk. My breath comes back out as fog. My pale skin looks almost translucent in the moonlight, and goose-bumps cover my arms. I shiver slightly and debate going back in to grab a jacket. I end up not going; I'll want to stay inside if I go back now.

I peer around the corner of the house, resisting the urge to tiptoe. It's so quiet... eerie. I bite my lip. _If you were Gale, where would you go?_ I think to myself. It's ridiculous of course. If _I_ were _Gale_? Why on earth would I-

Of course!

There's only one place Gale would go right now, when he's miserable and vulnerable and horribly mad_._

I chew my lip, really feeling the cold now. _It would be sensible to go get a jacket. Reasonable. The right thing to do. Stupid not to. Go back Prim. Go back. Now! You're going to freeze!_ I think. But as I think this, I'm burrowing underneath the fence.

-/-/-/-/-

"Gale," I call out softly, shivering. "Where are you? You can't stay here forever. Hazelle's worried sick."

I've been in the woods for an hour, just walking around, calling out. _Maybe he's not out here,_ says a voice in my head.

"Gale, Come back. Stop overreacting."

I'm shivering harder now. I wish I'd gone back for that jacket. _This is ridiculously stupid. You don't even know he's out here._

"Gale. I know you're out here. Come home."

My dress is awfully thin; not at all suited for this kind of weather. It's made up of some thin cotton material, calico or something. Whatever it is, it's not protecting me from the cold at all. If anything, it feels as though it's been soaking up the cold and transferring it to my body. The snow is melting on my skin, wetting the dress through. I cough loudly, ignoring the raspiness._ What are you trying to prove, Primrose Everdeen?_

"Gale! This is ridiculous! You need to go back!"

It's started snowing, and the temperature is literally dropping by the minute. The ice is hard enough to walk on as it is, but in ten minutes or so, I'll be trudging aimlessly through the snow. _Aimless is right,_ the voice snorts.

"Gale, _please._"

It's so, so cold._ He isn't out here,_ says the voice. _Maybe you don't know him as well as you think you do. Maybe he's back home now, comforting Hazelle. He could've just gone to the Hob for a little while. He might not have come out here._

I'm vaguely aware that I'm crying, but the tears freeze quickly on my cheeks. It's so cold.

The weather in District 12 tends to swing between two extremes – extremely hot and _extremely _cold. Usually the lowest temperatures of the cold season are during the night, which means I've never really felt the cold this badly before. I shiver violently.

I'm trying to call out again when I lose my footing in the snow – when did it get up to my knees? _How long have I been out here?_ I slip and fall face first into the snow. I roll onto my back, shivering so hard I could probably cause a minor earthquake.

_He's not out here. _It's taunting now. _Who are you trying to be, Primrose Everdeen? Oh, I know. __**Katniss. **__Well, the jokes on you. Not only is he not out here, but you'll probably freeze to death from your own stupidity. Did you honestly think you could be like your sister? Haven't these past few days shown you? And why are you trying to be like her anyway? So that _he'll_ like you? Pathetic. As if Gale Hawthorne could ever like you like that. He sees you as his little sister. Worse, his **dream girl's **little sister._

"Prim?"

I gasp in a breath. My body is shivering so hard, it's more like convulsing. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter. _When did I shut them in the first place?_

"Oh, Prim."

Strong arms lift me up out of the snow and fold around me. It feels as though I'm being pressed to a hot iron; my skin burns from the contact. I try and pull away, but his arms just close around me more firmly. I breathe in and out far too quickly; it comes off more like strangled gasping. I go into a coughing fit that lasts around four minutes and wince at the realisation that I've really done this to myself.

"What are you doing out here?" Gale demands, looking at me in disbelief.

I can't answer. I can barely breathe.

The last thing I'm aware of is the feeling of Gale's arms around me, and then I black out completely.


	8. Not Anymore

**_Heya :D_**

**_LOL I know I know, I write Cliffhangers :L I'm so mean ahaha *Sigh* Just because you guys are so epically epic and I now have 30 reviews, Here's one without a Cliffy :D_**

**_I don't own the Hunger Games :( Or the Peanut Butter :'(_**

**_Also, there's been a bit of debate about the whole Prim/Gale thing; originally I was just going to make Prim like him and him not like her back because of the whole age difference thing, but I found out that some people want them to get together anyway. So I'll let you guys choose cause you're that epic XD_**

**_Vote in the reviews whether or not you think PrimxGale is a good couple :D_**

**_Sorry for the extra long Author's note, I'll shut up now. :L _**

**_Jassy :)_**

I wake up about a block away from home. I feel exhausted – my lungs feel as though they're about to burst. I wonder vaguely how far into the woods I went; the clock in the town square is chiming. I count the chimes... three. _Three am? I left the house at ten!_

As Gale enters the house, Mother gasps and runs to light the fireplace. I want to tell her that we don't have enough firewood to waste on me, but my teeth are chattering too hard. Gale lowers me onto the couch and moves toward the door, but Mother shakes her head frantically.

"She has hypothermia," she says. "There fire isn't heated enough yet... Here, drape a blanket over her and just keep your arms around her til she thaws out a little more."

Gale looks faintly horrified, but Mother has left already to try and get the fire to warm up quicker. I guess I look pathetic enough, because after an awkward pause, he slides his arm back around my shoulders.

_At least one good thing has come of my stupidity. _

Did I seriously just think that? Jeez. The heat would be rushing to my cheeks right now if there was any left in my body. Lucky there's not.

Gale chafes his forearm against mine, trying to heat me up further with friction. I'm still shivering violently, but at least my teeth have stopped chattering. Mostly. Okay, so they haven't stopped chattering but they will soon, I'm sure.

Mother comes back in with a herbal tea. I can smell honey and lemon mixed in with the rest of the herbs. The aroma is intoxicating, mint and honey and lemon and vanilla... She should be using it for other patients, though.

I violently shake my head and try to talk.

"B-b-b-but o-o-o-o-o-oth-ther p-p-people-"

Mother looks exasperated.

"We can get more. These herbs are easy to come by. Gale could even pick some up tomorrow."

"What's wrong?" Gale asks confusedly.

"She doesn't want to waste the herbs," Mother explains. "Prim hardly ever takes any medication herself. I remember she broke her arm when she was around seven; all she let me do was bandage it. No painkillers or anything. I can't even remember the last time she let me give her cough syrup."

Gale looks at mother incredulously.

"Prim," he says seriously. "You need to drink this."

Rolling your eyes has a lot more affect when you're not shivering, gasping and wet from head to toe. It doesn't help that my reply is put off for about five minutes to allow for a coughing fit. Or that my teeth are still chattering.

"I-I-I-I'm _f-f-f-fine_."

Gale raises an eyebrow.

I sound so pathetic.

Mother sighs and hands the mug of tea to Gale, before going into the kitchen to check the fire. Gale narrows his eyes at me. I open my mouth to argue again, and he abruptly dumps a third of the mixture in my mouth.

I swallow the scalding liquid and cough violently. "Ow!" I say, scowling at him.

Gale smirks at me, and I brighten up. My teeth have stopped chattering. My voice is still raspy and I'm still shivering, but when I look at my reflection in the window, my cheeks have some colour in them.

"Okay, so it worked, but this time can you give me some warn-"

Gale ignores my last comment and pours half of the remaining liquid into my mouth.

"_Ow_! I'm going to get third degree burns on the inside of my oesophagus!"

Gale narrows his eyes at me. "Good. That'll serve you right for walking around in the woods in the middle of the night without proper clothing. Prim, you could've _died_. What were you _thinking_?"

I glare at him, still shivering. How _dare_ he?

"I was thinking 'Hmm, maybe I should find Gale before _he_ kills _him_self because he's seriously depressed about finding out that some random guy likes the girl he's in love with.' Hazelle was worried sick. Grow up Gale, as if they won't kill each other in the arena anyway. It sure as hell isn't going to stop Katniss from tearing his guts out. Heck, it'll probably make her _more_ inclined to kill him."

Silence.

_Ha. There aren't many things that shock Gale, and I've rendered him speechless twice in the last week. _

I look up at him. He's staring at me like he doesn't know who I am. I look back down, flushing. _Great,_ I think. _Now he hates you. What did you have to say anything about Katniss for? As if it isn't hard enough for him. Why do you always have to do the wrong thing? Why-_

"You're right."

I raise my eyebrows at him.

"I just- I don't know. Remember when we all got to say goodbye to her?" I nod at him. "I – was going to tell her then. But I didn't get the chance. Someone dragged me off before I could say that -"

"That you love her?" I ask.

He nods. "I always have. I was about to say it. Now – she'll never know. And what's stopping her from attempting to have a relationship between now and the Games? Nothing. Maybe If I'd had the chance..."

I smile at him sadly. He looks so lost without Katniss. I wish I could comfort him.

"You will have the chance," I tell him. "She's coming home, Gale. She _has_ to come home. She promised me she would. Katniss doesn't break promises, and you know it."

He smiles at me and shakes his head.

"Look at you." He laughs softly. "All grown up in a week. I doubt even Katniss would recognise you."

I pout. "I'm not that different."

Gale smiles. "Yes you are. The other week you were going around picking flowers to tie around Lady's neck, and yesterday you were out hunting to feed your family."

"I didn't shoot anything," I point out.

He smiles. "You still tried, though. You're not just Katniss' little sister anymore."

This would be really sweet... but he's still seeing me as _his_ little sister. I sigh inwardly. He's still obsessed with Katniss.

"I'm not that little." I say to him.

"Not anymore," says Gale.


	9. Let The Games Begin

**_Hiya! :D_**

**_I seem to have a LOT more hits than reviews, which is a little sad :( Don't people like reviewing? :( Please review! :)_**

**_Don't forget to vote on if you think PrimxGale is a good couple! Ask yourself - Do Gale and Prim belong together? Would Prim be socially accepted if people knew she was in love with someone six years older than her? What about GalexKatniss? Would it make Gale seem weird if he went out with a twelve-year-old? Is the age gap too big?  
Or can love overcome barriers such as age? huh, maybe I'm reading too much chick lit here... ahaha :L_**

**_Still don't own the Hunger Games. Or the world. Otherwise I would be rich and able to buy lots and lots of peanut butter. :D_**

**_Jassy (:_**

I wake up far too early after far too little sleep. I stretch and tilt my head

to the side and receive a stabbing pain in response. Frowning, I rub my neck. There are stress knots ranging from just below my hairline to about eight cm below my shoulders. I wince at the tension of my muscles, and wonder vaguely in my sleepy state why I'm so anxious. Then I remember.

The Hunger Games start today.

It's going to be an all-day broadcast. Recaps of everything from 4am until 11:30am this morning. They go in at 12 noon.

Gale was reprimanded by Hazelle, but the likelihood of him being grounded the day his best friend (and the girl he loves) goes into an arena to dance with certain death was always incredibly low. Instead, everyone comes back over for the day.

Gale and everyone arrive at around seven. Despite Mother telling me that I need rest (I just had hypothermia, my immune system is weak, etc), I'd been awake since about five. I stayed in my room just in case, though.

When I hear the door open, I bound out of bed, fully clothed, and run into the sitting room. I'm shaking again, but this time it's not for cold.

Gale grimaces at me. Everyone's awfully quiet this morning. Even Vick and Posy have stopped arguing for the time being.

They start recapping everything that's happened so far, accompanied with extra behind-the-scenes footage, and commentaries. They go through each segment from the past five days. I think it's just to keep the suspense present; as if anyone could forget the Games start today. I search the screen for my sister and find her telltale braid just visible from behind a Peacekeeper. She turns around, unaware of the cameras and I smile at the familiar determination in her grey eyes.

_She's coming back, she's coming back._

The Reapings. They show all of them in fastplay, with commentators in the background talking about the odds, etc. They seem to have decided Katniss is worth betting on after all; they praise her eleven and discuss how she could have done it. Gale and I smirk; the commentators were anything but in favour of her during the Reapings.

_She's coming back, she's coming back._

Opening ceremony. I watch Peeta take Katniss' hand just before they cross the threshold. She squeezes and I hear Gale grind his teeth. I stroke my thumb over the back of his hand gently, wondering when I took his hand. He shoots me another grateful smile identical to the one from interview night. Katniss and Peeta look stunning again; their stylists are amazing. I wonder how they got stuck with District 12; perhaps they upset the President somehow? I watch Katniss blow kisses in the direction of the camera and smile winningly. Her gaze falls on the camera lense and I feel as though she's looking straight at me.

_She's coming back, She's coming back_

Training sessions. I've seen this one before; they keep on using the same footage for recaps. Peeta lifts random weights. Katniss learns to identify edible plants. I smile sadly. I know half of the ones she's learning. The twelve year-old from eleven joins her and Peeta at one point. Gale squeezes my hand softly. It makes me sad that if Katniss comes home, the other girl can't. She's so young...

_Katniss is coming back, Katniss is coming back._

Scores. They dissect each score and discuss how each tribute went. They praise Katniss' eleven and talk about what she may have done. Gale and I exchange grins – she shot of course. It surprises me that she didn't use archery in the training sessions. There were plenty of bows there. Gale says she didn't want to lose the element of surprise in the arena.

_Katniss is coming back, Katniss is coming back._

Interviews. They go through all of them again. I smile sadly at Rue's interview, and again at Katniss'. Gale stiffens during Peeta's and Hazelle watches anxiously for his reaction. I squeeze his hand reassuringly and smile at him. He returns the squeeze and turns his attention back to the television.

Half an hour to go.

Twenty-five minutes.

Twenty minutes.

Fifteen.

Ten minutes.

Five minutes.

Three minutes.

One minute.

Thirty seconds.

Twenty.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

I feel the pressure of Gale's hand on mine and the television reveals the arena.

* * *

_**I know, I know, I'm so mean. :L It's not as if you guys don't know what the arena looks like anyway, unless you haven't read the book, which would be very upsetting if you hadn't. **_

**_The more reviews, the sooner the chapters go up. :D_**

**_ xx Peanut Butter Queen. AKA Jassy_**


	10. Watching the Games Episode 1

**_Heya :)_**

**_I'd like to do a shout out to my epic reviewers (: This chap is dedicated to:  
Archer 117, Vanity Storm, MaryaBadica, michellethebookworm, ihateturkeys, Narcissa-Weasly, nerdsman92, Snowstorm XD, WarriorKittyTribute, Elfoy-Manala, JaZzI of AwEsOmEnEsS and of course..._**

**_Honey Bea 1859! _**

**_You guys are epic! :D_**

**_I don't own the Hunger Games, or ANY jars of peanut butter :( waahhhh! we ran out! :'( *cries*. But I'll own it soon. Not the Hunger Games. The peanut butter. I'll never own the Hunger Games :( How depressing. :( Owell, soon i'll own peanut butter which isn't depressing (:_**

**_Jassy_**

* * *

The arena seems pretty normal. There is a decent amount of vegetation throughout it – mostly made up of woods. I breathe out a sigh in relief – Katniss will have one thing to her advantage at least. The corners of Gale's mouth turn up in a half-smile.

The Cornucopia is filled with goods that could make or break the tributes. The careers solely depend on the supplies from the Cornucopia half the time. This year, they've spread the goods out so that the closer to it you are, the more valuable the goods are. For example, when the camera pans the items in and around the Cornucopia, I see a blunt, rusty knife made of flimsy-looking copper about a metre in front of Peeta, whilst about two metres out from the Cornucopia, there's a razor-sharp spear made entirely out of stainless steel, glinting in the sunlight.

The tributes are all situated around the Cornucopia, in a large circle. Each tribute is about forty metres away from the Cornucopia, and two metres away from their neighbouring tribute. The screen pans the arena, passing over each tribute. I smile when I see Katniss.

_She's going to make it, she's going to make it._ I tell myself one last time.

Katniss is staring intently at the Cornucopia. Her eyes are narrowed, and her eyebrows pushed together. I squint to see what she's staring at and groan.

"Don't do it," I whisper.

Gale goes green when he realises what I'm talking about.

A perfectly made bow with a curved, silver handle seems to be glowing in the light of the arena, taunting Katniss. It looks majestic in the sunlight, reflecting the (artificial) golden rays. It looks nothing like the makeshift bow and arrow sets Gale and I have been using – even someone like me, with limited hunting experience, could shoot with this set. Katniss' eyes glaze over and I watch through splayed fingers.

She's looking to the left now, with a slightly confused expression.

_What's she looking at?_

"Ladies and gentlemen," Seneca Crane, the Gamemaker says. My attention is turned back on him. "Let the 74th Annual Hunger Games begin!"

The gunshot sounds and Katniss is still looking to her left. She might have made it to the Cornucopia before, but she'll never make it now. My eyes are wide, but Katniss seems to realise this as well. She curses quietly and dashes for a little backpack and a thin sheet of plastic a few feet in front of her. She arrives at her goal at the same time as the male tribute from nine and they fight for it. Then the girl from two throws her knife at the boy, who coughs his blood up all over Katniss. _Yeuch!_ I hope he doesn't have an infection. She freaks out and almost drops the bag. Then she catches sight of the girl. Clove, I think. She recovers, swings the backpack over her shoulder, and dashes up the mountain. Clove throws another knife, and for one second I really think she's going to hit her – but Katniss hikes the backpack a little further up her back, and the knife sticks in the orange material instead of her flesh. She grins back at Clove, who's almost gnashing her teeth.

I breathe a sigh of relief – she's safe.

Gale looks at me, and we both smile. I realise that we've almost stopped the blood circulation in our hands – I kept squeezing his when I was freaking out. I laugh softly, and put my hand next to me on the carpet.

The television screen goes back to the Cornucopia. The bloodbath there always seems to last forever. They don't even bother sounding the canons on that first day anymore 'til the end. Both from six are gone, and the male from five. The girl from seven and the boy from nine. Suddenly, the boy from five springs up – he's not even unconscious. _Clever_. He pretended to be dead so that the others would just ignore him. He grabs a blond boy from the ankle and yanks, hard. With a jolt, I realise it's Peeta.

I glance sideways at Gale, wondering how he's taking this. His face is a mix of emotions. A hint of satisfaction. Guilt for feeling satisfied. There's still some anger from the revelation last night. Regret that this is happening to someone he knows. Frustration that the Hunger Games happen at all.

Mother gasps audibly and I turn my attention back onto the television screen. The boy from five has his hands around Peeta's neck, choking him. My mouth drops open in horror. I really don't mind Peeta – he's totally head over heels for Katniss of course, but he's quite nice. He gave me a cookie one time when I was looking at the cakes in the bakery. It's horrible knowing someone who goes into the Games.

Peeta manages to shove the boy off, even though he's a little bigger. He tackles him to the ground and pins him there. I put my hands over my eyes as he manages to drive the knife into the boy's heart.

I feel the bile rise in my throat, and I turn away from the television screen in shock. It's sick what the Games do to these kids. Gale's expression is hard, angry and fierce. It's the one that scares Katniss – and me – sometimes. When he's in a mood like this, you really can't tell what he's going to do. I squeeze his hand again and he smiles sheepishly.

Peeta's eyes widen and for a split second he looks as disgusted as I am. Then he notices the male from district one – Cato – staring at him intently. Peeta makes a big show of dusting off his hands and shrugging like it was nothing. I look at his face carefully. For the most part, it's expressionless, but the camera does a close-up on his face and I read his eyes. Remorse for what he just did. Calculating to see if the Careers would kill him. Confusion as to why Cato was staring at him instead of killing him. There's a hint of worry that I know is related to Katniss.

I feel sorry for him.

Peeta points at something behind Cato, who rolls his eyes.

"As if I'm going to fall for that, Lover Bo-"

Just then, the male tribute from four tackles him to the ground, a long, curved knife in his hand. He strokes the curve of the knife along Cato's jaw. Cato's eyes are wide open in shock. Blood starts to trickle down the side of his face, dark red. Peeta reacts instinctively, shoving the boy hard. All the heavy lifting from working in the bakery has definitely payed off – the male from four is about twice the size of Peeta, but he still manages to get thrown off Cato from the force. Determined to use this to his advantage, Cato immediately leaps up onto his feet and throws his spear with excessive force at the boy. It vibrates with the strength of the throw, and blood pools around the wound. The boy is convulsing on the ground.

Peeta stares at the boy, looking sickened. Cato grins at him suddenly, and Peeta rights his expression, carefully arranging it into one of triumph before glancing at Cato. He nods at Peeta and grins devilishly. Peeta tries to mimic the grin, but all he can pull of is a grimace. I sympathize; he is so not equipped for this game. To win the Hunger Games, you truly have to survive on instinct alone; doing whatever you have to stay alive. Peeta is so gentle and kind; he'd have to throw his values out the window.

Clove scowls at the boys' exchange.

"What's with Lover Boy?" She mutters to Cato, narrowing her eyes at Peeta.

Cato shrugs. "Four jumped me. He saved my neck. He stays. For now. And he killed the male from Five." He adds thoughtfully.

Clove walks around Peeta, looking him up and down. She may as well be a stylist, or a butcher looking over meat.

"How did he kill five?" she asks Cato, eyes still narrowed at Peeta.

Cato grins. "Knife."

Clove looks faintly amused. Knives are her specialty.

"Here," she thrusts a bronze knife with a blunt tip to Peeta. "Throw it. At the Cornucopia. Just below the point."

I look sideways at Gale. Peeta goes visibly green on screen. Gale has that odd mix of emotions on his face again, torn between guilt and satisfaction.

Peeta takes the knife, trying desperately to look confident. He turns the knife over in his hands, inspecting it. It's so blunt I'd be surprised if it actually stuck in anything. A thoughtful expression passes his face, followed closely by a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. His smirk is barely noticeable but I catch it. What is he thinking?

He pulls his arm back and hurls it with all his might, and it sticks. My eyes widen, but it's not the same amazement as everyone else. I sometimes notice things that other people don't; my eyes catch things with look unusual. I can pick out small details that aren't right. Everyone in the room is wondering how he got the knife to stick, but I know.

Earlier, he'd slid his knife from before – the one he'd killed the tribute from five with – underneath his shirt sleeve. When he pulled his arm back, he'd quickly swapped the blunt knife for the sharp one. They were very similar – the first was brass, but in the light of the Cornucopia it looks like bronze. Clove raises her eyebrows and a look of shock passes across her face. She quickly composes it into a scowl.

"He can stay," she glares at Cato. "But he's _your_ responsibility. You have to make sure he pulls his weight. Why did Four turn on you anyway?"

Cato shrugged. "He was like that in training. He wanted to be Pack Leader."

Clove rolls her eyes. "So did I. Doesn't mean I'm going to kill you the second I get a chance. I know that you can be useful."

Cato grunts, and they start collecting supplies.

* * *

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	11. One Two Twelve

**_Hiya! ^_^_**

**_How are you today? I'm good except I didn't get to sleep until like 4:30am because I was reading fanfic. They should really  
have a Readers Anonymous group for people who read fanfic until the early hours of the morning -_-_**

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**_Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games :L Or I would have a peanut butter swimming pool._**

* * *

The tributes from One loiter up to where the others are at the Cornucopia. The boy grunts. They're both very attractive looking; as is always the way with the tributes from One. They sort of complement each other; their stylists must have stolen the idea of presenting them as a team from Twelve's stylists. The girl and boy both have blonde hair, fair skin and light eyes, though the boy's are blue and the girl's are green. They look entrancing walking towards the others, the light falling on their golden hair and making them look majestic. The girl's green eyes sparkle and she looks like she belongs in some sort of fairytale.

"Seven's gone," says the boy casually.

Just like that, the image loses all majesty. I feel sick to my stomach. The boys voice is as entrancing as his looks, attractive and light. The casual, lilting tone does not match the words he's saying. I'm always the squeamish one when it comes to the Hunger Games. I can barely watch at all some years; the brutal nature perturbs me. This year it's much worse; the Games feel more real when you know someone in them.

The girl tosses her golden curls with a small smile. "And the girl from Three. And the girl from Nine and the boy from Eight. I had Three and Nine." She seems to be almost bragging.

I really feel sick now. Gale notices and gives me a reassuring smile.

On the screen, Cato grins at the other two as a sort of praise. His eyes linger on the girl a little longer than the boy, which makes me smirk a little. She could be dangerous in a different way. The boy catches sight of Peeta and scowls like a toddler who isn't allowed a treat.

"What's _he _doing here?" He demands, glaring at Peeta.

"He stays," Cato growls. "He killed the boy from Five, and helped kill the kid from Four."

"How?" asks the boy, glaring at Peeta.

"Doesn't matter," growls Cato. "I'm the leader here, and I say he stays."

Both from One look unhappy, but there isn't really anything they can do.

"Marvel and Glimmer," Cato nods to the tributes. It's some form of introduction, I think. Peeta nods coolly, extending his hand for them to shake. The boy laughs, a harsh chuckle that doesn't really scream _humour_. The girl looks down her nose at him distastefully, as if being from District Twelve automatically makes him diseased. Districts One and Two often treat us like this; it's common stigma. Poor Peeta.

Cato snatches up his pack, moving toward the centre of the Cornucopia.

"Let's get moving, people!" He yells in an agitated tone. "We're going hunting. Take anything you want from the Cornucopia – be sure to only take the stuff you know you'll use. We're coming back, but pack anything essential in case any of the others get ideas. If we find anyone on our way, kill 'em. Don't matter who they are. I don't want you holding out on your girlfriend, either," he adds to Peeta gruffly.

Peeta fakes a snort, but I can tell he's worried for my sister by the worried look in his eyes. Glimmer and Marvel are already packing duffels with water, weapons, food and extra clothes. Marvel is very obviously as entranced by Glimmer as everyone else; he keeps sneaking peeks at her. She seems to be oblivious – until I catch sight of her smug expression. She bats her eyelids at him and he immediately hands over all the better quality supplies. Huh. This one could be _very_ dangerous.

Peeta packs normal stuff; two knives, a small first aid kit, a bottle of water. Clove snorts at his choice of knife. Peeta flushes slightly, and Clove rolls her eyes. She tosses him a sharper, longer knife and he nods his thanks. _They seem to communicate very well with just nodding, _I think to myself. It was kinda weird, like they thought they were above talking or something.

They head into the woods about ten minutes later. The screen does smash shots of the locations of all the tributes. Katniss is camped up in a tree somewhere. I smile at her image. After they look at each of the tributes they do an interview with the Gamemakers.

The Games are set in sections, a bit like episodes. They're about an hour ahead of us, just so they can edit and things like that. There's usually one section/episode per day, but on the first day there are three smaller ones. In between each, they interview the Gamemakers, President Snow and random viewers in the Capitol.

This concludes episode one.

I sigh and lean onto the wall next to me. Gale's arm immeditaley goes around me in a comforting embrace.

This is going to be a very long couple of days.

* * *

_**Guess what? WE BOUGHT PEANUT BUTTER! XD so happy!**_

_**Jassy xx**_


	12. You've Really Done It This Time

**_Hey guys :)_**

**____**

**__******

**_I know this is a bit of a short one comparitively; I'll try and make the next one longer. If you guys want input as well, you can put it in the reviews or PM me (: (: _**

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**_uhhhm, i meant to say something else but I can't remember it? :L ahaha, if I remember it, and it's really super-dooper the-world-is-going-to-blow-up-if-i-don't-tell-you-about-it, i'll put it in the next AN. _**

**_I don't own the Hunger Games, blah blah blah,_**

**_ENJOY! (: And review!_**

* * *

The Games are broadcasted live 24/7 in the Town Square, but on normal television, it is broadcasted from 6am-10pm. No-one really bothers watching those eight hours anyway; most of the tributes were asleep, and, besides, at 5am and 11pm they recap anything that happened during them anyway. It's like a reminder that, while you can't see them, the tributes are still there. The horror is fresh and the blood still trickling.

In the history books, the televisions were small, metal/plastic boxes hooked up to the wall. They ran with some sort of electric current; like the lights in some of the older houses in the Seam. From what I've read, they had different programs on all at the same time, and you were able to 'flick' between them using buttons on the television. The televisions today are small, flat screens, about the thickness of a sheet of paper, built into the wall. There is only one program ever running; The Hunger Games. We are able to switch it on and off during the season where there are no Games currently running, but during the Victory Tour and the Hunger Games, and any other mandatory programs, it is locked on. During the eight hour gap, it unlocks.

Today the Hunger Games continue. The eight-hour gap brings nothing but anxiety and grief. It's worse if you know the tributes, all you can think about is whether they were killed while the gap was there. It really doesn't serve its purpose; or does it? Is this just another twisted way of the Capitol's, trying to bring more misery to the districts? In any case, it doesn't fulfil it's purpose as a break; it makes it worse for those watching.

The conditions of District 12 are still at an all-time low. The whole District is betting on Katniss to win; whether they know and like her or not. With a Victor in our District, we would have enough food and other resources to keep our District going for another two or three years. More and more sick and injured people are flocking to the Apothecary daily. The amount makes my eyes widen, but Mother is surprisingly strong, merely nodding her head and doing whatever possible to help the injured.

The second day of the Games, Mother and I only get to watch about a quarter of, we're so busy. I flock to the living room every fifteen minutes or so. I feel like a little bird, fluttering anxiously back and forth. Gale comes into the kitchen eventually, trying to keep me reasonably calm. That day alone, we receive four broken arms, eight colds, two infections, four viruses, three broken legs, and eleven people suffering from malnutrition. Only about three people could afford the medication.

Gale watches with angry eyes at the amount of people in this condition. He storms out when we're diagnosing the fourth person with malnutrition. Mother raises her eyebrows, and I shake my head in warning. He's kicking stones and letting out sharp breaths. His face is read; eyes hostile.

Exasperated, I follow him outside. He pointedly ignores me.

"They can't help it," I tell him after a few moments. "I know it frustrates you. But not all of them can hunt like you. You and Katniss are different. You can't expect everyone in District Twelve-"

"You think that's what I'm angry about?"

I cringe at the harshness in Gale's tone. The anger and frustration hasn't left his eyes, but it softens slightly when he looks at me. He genuinely cares about me, even if it's not in the way I would like.

"Prim, I'm not angry or frustrated at them." He explains, voice softer, but still carrying an edge. "I'm frustrated at their position. That we have to starve, when everyone in the Capitol-"

Oh not this again.

Gale breaks off, staring at me, and I realise I've spoken aloud. I hastily try to explain.

"There's nothing we can do about it but cope-" I stammer, not idiotic enough to attempt taking back my comment.

"We shouldn't have to." He hisses angrily. I flinch again, even though I know the anger isn't directed at me. "We shouldn't be in this position where the number of people dying of starvation is increasing daily! While those in the Capitol-"

"And what are you doing about it?" I burst out angrily. "What are you doing? You talk about it all the time and you're not doing anything about it! At least Mother and I are trying to help people! You storm out of rooms, you overreact. What good is that doing? If you truly believe what you say, why haven't you done anything about it?"

I really need to stop with this whole overflow of emotions thing. It's scaring me a little. Usually I'm quite placid; any emotions that are particularly strong, I usually shove back down so they don't hurt anyone, but lately it's just been bubbling out of me, choking me.

"You rant and rave and carry on about how our life sucks. Yeah. It does. But what good is talking about it? You can help! I know our life sucks! How could I not? But that doesn't mean that I go around every day, blowing up about it. It just makes my resolve stronger. You're all talk! At least I _try_ and help! Sure, it's not much. But it's something. You can't just sit there and blow up all the time! Where the hell is that getting you?"

I stop myself, finally able to control the flow of words escaping my mouth. I press my fingers over my lips, as though I can take back my harsh words. I look up with wide eyes at Gale, wondering if that really just happened. His expression says it did. He walks away, without another word.

_Jeez Prim. You've really done it this time._


	13. We Are Broken

**_Hey! Umm... you still there? :l_**

**_Haven't UD in almost 6 days eek! This one is especially long just for you guys who are actually still reading! (:_**

**_Okay, I know this one's depressing, but the worst part always comes before the best (: Just keep reading; everything balances out eventually. _**

**_This chapter is dedicated to the awesomicated song by Paramore - We Are Broken off their second album RIOT!_**

**_Thankyou to Narcissa-Weasly for the television thing - i fixed it up (: Don't be scared to criticise me guys, seriously. I only bite on days that end in y. ;) ahaha, jokes. Good writers wouldn't be good unless they had criticism. Weird, but true (:_**

**_xx Jassy_**

* * *

**_Disclaimer: _**

**_Me: Priiiiiiiiim can you heeeelp me?_**

**_Prim: Sorry, saving someone's life here. _**

**_Me: _Fine!_ Gale?_**

**_Gale: Nup, I'm moping about the girl I love going to die._**

**_Me: *rolls eyes* Katniss, can _you_ help me?_**

**_Katniss: *throws knife at boy from Tribute Eight* I'M KINDA BUSY!_**

**_Me: Jeesh All I wanted was some help to do the disclaimer..._**

**_..._**

**_All: MY GO!_**

**_*bickering*_**

**_Me: Oh for goodness sakes -_- I don't own the Hunger Games_**

* * *

I sit on the hearth rug, curled in a ball, my arms hugging my knees to my chest. The television is replaying everything that happened in the arena today, and after hours yesterday. The images on depict how much of a failure I really am.

And what a failure that is.

When my sister's name was called out, I knew that there was really only one thing I could do – other than hope with all my essence that she'd come out of the arena alive. To not break down. To not go into a state of depression or dormancy, like Mother. To not scream or shout or blame people who have nothing to do with anything, like Gale. To be like her. Like Katniss.

Ha. Not break down? I cried for eighteen hours straight on that first day. I've screamed and ranted at Gale, what is it, four times now? I fail at hunting. I barely concentrate when someone comes in sick to the Apothecary. If this was what Katniss was like, we would all be dead by now.

And the worst part is still being displayed on our television screen.

I'd neglected to watch the Games as closely as even the year before. I'd thought that nothing of particular importance would happen; as long as I watched the anthem that night. I'd thought that it was worth missing a few hours – as long as I was helping people.

Video footage is being shown. Katniss watching in the trees, listening, only feet away from the careers. Katniss running from a wall of fire, being burned, falling. Katniss up in the trees – with the careers at the foot of them, snarling and shooting arrows at her. Katniss dropping a nest of trackerjackers onto the careers. Katniss being stung by a trackerjacker. Katniss collapsing on the ground from the pain of the sting – and Peeta helping her up. Rue curing her with brantti leaves – easily identified. _I could have told Katniss that_, I think bitterly. It seems selfish and stupid of me to not have tried to teach her simple things like this in the event that she did go into the arena. Katniss becoming allies with Rue. Them discussing how to get rid of the careers.

Image after image, video after video. All the things I've missed. All the things I haven't bothered to keep track of. The guilt worsens with each one; it feels like I'm drowning in it. That and despair.

Huh. So much for not going into a state of depression. Guess that's another thing I've failed at.

My vision slides so I'm looking at everything sideways. My forehead creases, and then I realise I've just keeled sideways. I don't bother sitting back up. I don't really care anyway. My life is hardly worth bothering with. My sister's battling it out in an arena where a split second of hesitation means certain death. The guy I'm in love with hates me. My Mother is volatile and depressive. My Father died in the mines years ago.

Katniss was always the one who was like our father. Strong, passionate. She deals with things in this fashion; still fighting. It's like she's her own flame; she'll fight to her last breath, if it means saving someone she loves. You can even see it in her eyes, the raw determination.

I'm more like Mother, which is a both good and bad. She's a darling really, and I'd forgiven her years ago for the depressive state she fell in when Father left. It wasn't her fault, so there was really nothing to forgive. She truly believes in hope and trust and everything good. She tries as hard as she can to heal people. And I love her dearly, but... she's a little unstable. Okay... a lot unstable. She's prone to insomnia, insecurity, severe depression...

I was always secretly relieved that I hadn't inherited the insecurity issues. That record had just gone out the window.

I wondered briefly if I really was depressed. The grief was more like an internal pressure-wave of negative emotions. It was growing by the second, more of a tsunami now. My eyelids drooped. Katniss didn't know, but sometimes Mother got like this. She'd find something, or someone would say something to her, and she'd go into a sudden state of depression. There was one time that really stood out...

_Katniss had skipped school today._

_I sighed when I came out of the elementary building. I loved school most days; I had plenty of friends, my teachers adored me and I was a straight-A student. But the highlight of my day was always walking home with my older sister. _

_We'd talk and I'd skip, I'd ask her how her day was, she'd grunt at me, we'd pass the bakery and I'd stare at the frosted cakes in the windows. Katniss would smile and gently pull me away from the display and we'd continue home. It was routine. It really was the only time we got to talk properly about things. _

_Today she'd skipped. I walked home on my own; I admit, at eleven, I was a little nervous. It was getting dark already and I was only ten, after all. I skipped lightly home, forcing myself to be optimistic. The normalcy of my own exuberance comforted me. _

_I swung the door open. The small sitting room was empty, but it usually was this time of day. Mother would be in the kitchen, treating a patient or cooking dinner. When I crossed the threshold, however, the muscles in my stomach tensed and curled into a knot. My forehead creased. Something was wrong. I didn't really know how I knew. I just knew something wasn't right._

_My pace slowed until it was like I was walking in slow motion. Tentatively, I peered into the kitchen. She wasn't there. _

_It shouldn't have made me so jumpy and nervous. So she wasn't in the kitchen. She could be down the road, buying herbs. She could be next door, visiting Hazel. There were plenty of places she could be._

_Still, I had to take several deep breaths before I could open her bedroom door. And when I did, I really, really wished I hadn't._

_There was so much blood. _

_A tiny scream escaped my lips before I could control it. It didn't matter anyhow – her eyes were closed and she seemed not to hear me. Tears spilled over my cheeks. I checked myself. I could help her. I helped Mother in the kitchen all the time. True, she never let me help with instances such as this; suicides were common in District 12, but they were hardly talked about them. It was a sign of respect, of grief. There was no need for people to die, and it was particularly sad that it was the person's own doing. _

_I walked towards her. I was so, so scared. There was still blood flowing from her wrists. I collected supplies from the kitchen and set about fixing her up. She was pale and her breathing was laboured from the blood loss. Her blonde curls were stained with red splotches. _

_I took in my surroundings. Tears threatened, again, to spill over my already wet cheeks. She was entirely and completely broken._

_Taking in a deep breath, I tore of a piece of fabric from the industrial-sized roll of bandage material, folding into a small rectangle, about the size of Mother's arm. I gently applied pressure to the cuts to stem the blood flow. It took about five minutes for each arm – and the bandage was stained red – but the blood slowed. Carefully, I smeared a green paste made from Hinnelow leaves onto her arms, it helped repair the skin and contained a chemical that sped up and increased the production of red and white blood cells. I tightly wrapped her arms in extra bandage cut-offs – we never threw anything out; it was far too valuable. _

_I frowned, biting my lip. There was no way I was going to be able to life her onto her bed, even if she was small-statured. I managed to drag her onto the rocking chair in the corner and pull a shawl over her. It was long enough to cover her bandaged arms, as long as she didn't take it off. I scrubbed the carpet with some foul-smelling product I found in the cupboard and threw all the bedclothes in a bucket to soak. _

_Katniss came home late that night, by some miracle. I told her Mother had gotten a headache and gone to bed early. She believed me entirely. Exhausted, I went outside to 'feed Lady'. I collapsed on the ground in exhaustion, and fell asleep on the kitchen floor._

I'm exactly like her.

If I wasn't so depressed, I would be crying. But I am.

I told myself I wasn't exactly like her. I promised myself that I would prevent myself from turning into a depressive pessimist.

That's the thing, though. I still have father's optimism, but only half of the time. The other half I usually push back down and now its flooding me.

I sit there for hours, not really crying even. It's like lying on a beach and letting the waves just touch your toes, before going back out again. The pain I felt wasn't nearly enough to drown me, but it was enough to see how big the wave was, and how much damage it could be. I just let myself half-cry until I fell asleep on the kitchen floor, just like that time.

Except it wasn't Mother that was broken, not now.

It was me.

* * *

**_:( I forgot how depressing this chap was. _**

**_Happiness and sunshine next chapter!_**


	14. Maybe

**_Hiya! Anyone still there? :L_**

**_Okay, okay, so I'm getting worse at updating. But five days isn't that bad. Seeing as I still have to do homework, rehearsals for the musical I'm in, work, guitar, another story I'm writing and singing stuff, I think it's pretty good (:_**

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**_Au revoir ma petite champignon!_**

I skip lightly down the road, mostly for Mother's benefit. To say she was shocked when she found me lying damp in a small pool of my own tears this morning would be an understatement.

She blamed herself of course. Katniss never really forgave Mother for her bouts of depression, but what she never knew was the fact that Mother never really forgave herself either. I tried to tell her that it wasn't her fault, but she shook off all my reassurances. After making me drink a tea infused with herbs that were meant to release extra endorphins, she kicked me out of the house with a list of things to buy.

"The sunlight and fresh air will do you good." She said firmly.

I wonder vaguely whether Peeta's dad is a contributing factor to her getting me out of the house. I see him 'sneak' past me down the road and roll my eyes. Truthfully, I'm happy he's trying to help her. They were always friends when Mother was growing up, and she doesn't really have many friends now.

The tea starts to work and I relax slightly. The bounce in my step is more natural. I pass by a window and my cheeks look flushed, instead of the waxy pallor they were this morning. I smile slightly and hurry to the square, anxious to be there when the Hunger Games resume.

The list isn't long by the standards of anyone who doesn't live in the Seam, but for us it's unusually lengthy. Bread. Bandages. Honey. Tea leaves. Eucalyptus leaves. Hinnelow leaves. Tratkhi leaves. Amorellla stem. Redthorne oil.

I sigh. The amount of disease has hit an all-time high. Mother told me yesterday that it's the highest since the dark days. I skip from store to store, smiling properly now. The stall-owners all know me, and I think some of the items I bought were at least half-price. I frown, trying to pay full, but they shake their heads firmly, exclaiming that today is sale day.

The sunlight soaks into my skin, filling me with warmth. In the Town Square, it looks like one of those pictures from before the Great War. Where there are flowers and smiling people and big white buildings. Harbours with bridges that stretch across, cities with sunsets and towers in the shape of an A. Pretty names like Paris, Rome and Vienna dance through my mind.

I shake off the feeling of nostalgia. Things haven't been like that for centuries now.

There's a crowd gathering in a small alley to the left, and I frown. The people are mostly from the Seam, and the few merchants look out of place. I walk towards the crowd, weeding my way into the middle.

Gale is there.

I look at him in surprise, but he doesn't notice me.

He's teaching them how to bandage wounds and cure colds.

Mystified, I watch as he shows Greasy Sae how to wrap her ankle properly; she tripped over on her bad leg the other day. He demonstrates, slowly winding the bandage. He tucks the end into a fold neatly and tells her to elevate it.

I'm beyond shocked.

The next person has a cold. He frowns, like he's trying to remember how to do something. I chew my lip. _Honey and lemon_, I scream at him mentally.

"Drink a mixture of..." He breaks off, thinking hard. "Rosemary and thyme with hot water."

That'll make her sick! Honey and lemon boiled and drank with water once a day until the cough fades.

Everyone stares at me. Oops. I've got to stop doing that.

Pretending I'd meant to speak aloud, I give her instructions on how to boil and add the honey and lemon.

"It works best if you add tea leaves as well." I tell her, handing her a pinch of the supply I just bought. I wrap it in bandage material and hold it out to her.

She smiles gratefully, thanking me.

The crowd has thinned slightly; Gale is packing his things up. A man hangs back to ask him a question about fevers. I wait patiently for him to finish, shaking a little. I'm far better than yesterday, but the pessimism still lingers.

Gale turns and faces me, with a tentative expression. He looks as though I'm about to hit him – or curl up into a ball. I frown.

"What?" I ask. I wondered if my words from yesterday had had more affect than I'd thought. He's still watching me as though I might explode in front of him any second now.

"Nothing." He swallows. His expression is still apprehensive – what did I do? Sure I'd yelled at him yesterday, but his hesitance holds an underlying emotion of mingled concern and guilt.

"Gale, what's wrong? Is it Posy? Are the kids okay? What happened?"

He shakes his head, arranging his face into a relatively blank expression. "Nothing; its fine Prim. Honestly. Everyone's okay."

The eyes are the window to the soul, I think, my own eyes narrowed. His are still full of telltale traces of regret and guilt – why does he feel so guilty?

"Gale, I know something's wrong! Why won't you tell me? I'm sorry for what I said yesterday, but if something has happened-"

"I'm sorry!" he blurts out. My eyes widen at him.

"What-?"

"I'm sorry," he says, more quietly. "You were right, and I didn't want to hear it, but... God, Prim, what were you thinking? It's like every time something happens you forget to take care of yourself! First the hypothermia thing and yesterday..." he trails off.

Confused, I wonder what he's on about... and then it clicks.

"You were there," I whisper, staring at my feet.

_Oh God. Oh God, oh God. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He'll think you're suicidal now. You were a mess yesterday. All he'll see when he looks at you is a girl who can barely look after herself, permanently in a depressive state. _

"What happened?" he asks softly. "One minute you were angry at me, and yelling and screaming... The next you were sobbing dejectedly in a ball on the floor. I was so scared..."

I look up at him, my forehead creased.

"Scared?" I ask him.

"Yes, scared." He says. "Prim you had a complete breakdown. Do you even remember me being there?"

I think hard, but I can barely remember anything after falling asleep on the floor. I know I woke up numerous times, but all I can remember was the feeling of grief and hopelessness.

"I guess not..." I trail off.

I look at my feet. I barely know what happened last night. I just felt so... empty. I feel a pang of sympathy for Mother, and wonder if this is what she goes through daily. I feel Gale's hand cup my cheek.

"Prim you can't keep breaking down. I know it's hard. It's so, so hard. But you need to promise me you'll take care of yourself. I promised Katniss I'd take care of you guys, but I can't if you don't take care of yourself."

Again with the treating me like a little sister. But for now, I'm pretty content with that.

"I promise." I murmur.

He gives me a small smile before taking my hand. Our fight is forgotten – but the root of it was never our fault.

The Capitol is making our lives living hell. Once, there were many countries. Most of them were Republics or Democracies. The people weren't living in poverty all the time because of their government. The cities weren't dull like the districts – or overdone like the capitol. They were beautiful, but in a subtle, nice way. Names like Paris, Rome, Sydney and Vienna run through my mind and I try to shake off the feeling of nostalgia.

We know that our lives will never be like the ones of those centuries ago when these ideas existed. But we also know that this poverty, this famine, none of it is necessary. We don't _have_ to live this way.

So me and Gale, we're going help people. Not noticeably. Things that big are already happening – I can feel it. So, for now, we'll do little things – like Gale was doing in the Square today. And then maybe it will help. Maybe.

* * *

_**Review! Or purple monkeys will rain from the sky! Nah jks, that'd actually be pretty awesome XD **_

**_ But still, review!_**


	15. Flowers and Goodbyes

**_Woah, have I seriously not UD in nine days? _**

**_I'm so so sorry :( I have so much stuff on atm and I'm starting to get writers block :O If you have any ideas about what should happen now, PM me!_**

**_Welcoming to the family Kim9800! yay! you can be the cousin (:_**

**_I thinks, that the poll for GalexPrim yes or no will close by next chapter. VOTE VOTE VOTE!_**

**_Thank you all sooooooo much for reviewing! I'll try and get the next chapter finished and up by Friday!_**

**_Jassy xx_**

I laugh and Gale smiles. We're taking the long way home, but the day is so nice, I don't really mind. There are a few wildflowers here and there on the footpath, and I keep stopping to collect them. Gale smiles at me, shaking his head. He seems a little more relaxed. I think the idea of helping people slowly is calming him slightly. Keeping his temper at bay.

I have a whole basket of flowers now, all different colours. Gale watches me curiously as I tie them into bunches using a length of brown thread. As we walk home, I randomly throw the bunches on people's doorsteps in the Seam. The first time I threw one, I think he thought I'd dropped it. He moved as though to pick it back up for me, but I shook my head at him and threw another one. His eyes widened and a look of uncertainty crossed his face. I smiled at him softly.

I'm still laughing from the story Gale is telling me when we get back home. Hazelle and the kids are all over again the watch the Games. Vick and Rory are arguing over something. Posy is drawing hearts and flowers in the dirt tray that I think used to be an oven tray. We use it as a kind of sketch-pad from the old days – all you do is fill it with dirt and draw shapes. You can spray it with water to make it set.

Hazelle and Mother are chatting about things. As we walk in the entire room goes suddenly quiet – barring the echoing crash coming from the speakers. My eyes snap toward the screen and my mouth drops open in horror.

The careers have re-rigged the bombs. And Katniss has just set them off.

Gale looks like he's about to explode again, and I squeeze his hand. A tear trickles out of the corner of my eye.

But no-one here is going to break down. Not this time. I'm crying, but they aren't depressive, hopeless tears. Hazelle grips Mother's hand fiercely, and she nods. Vick and Rory grimace, Rory holding Posy. Everyone is stoic. Katniss would be so proud. Gale puts one arm around my shoulder, and we wait, together, in silence for the cannon that is surely about to go off.

But it doesn't.

I look up, my vision blurry from my tears. Gale blinks at me, confused. Katniss looks straight at the camera, her ear bleeding. My heart truly aches for her. The serum she needs is so expensive – it would be impossible for her sponsors to buy for her. She'll probably never hear in that ear again.

But she's alive.

Once again, I am awed at my sister's determination. She's stubborn, yes, but God help us all if she wasn't.

Mother's crying softly, but they're tears of relief. The tension in the room declines so rapidly it's almost visible. I sigh softly, and lean into Gale. He strokes my hair gently.

We're good for each other. I keep him calm, grounded, less angry. He keeps me fighting. We're a team, me and Gale.

My heart swells at the thought. He loves me, I know – but as a sister. I'll deal with this for now, but I can't help but imagine us, ten or fifteen years from now, as a couple. The age difference is a little problematic, but surely in that amount of time people will stop the gossip?

I smile slightly, finding hope in my fantasy. I'll never hold it against Katniss if they become a couple though – how could I? They're practically perfect for each other. The two people I love most in the world. But on the off chance that Katniss falls in love with someone else, I'll always be there, waiting for Gale to wake up and realise I love him. And maybe, he'll love me too. Maybe.

Gale smirks at me. Just because there's compassion there doesn't mean the attitude is gone.

"What are you so happy about?" he asks, smiling himself.

I feel the heat rise slightly in my cheeks. "Nothing," I say too quickly.

He rolls his eyes at me, and I grin sheepishly. Secretly, I like it when he's sarcastic and full of attitude. I feel like it shows he can trust me enough to relax around me, and that he knows me well enough to joke around with me.

"Right. _Nothing_." He says sarcastically. "Thinking about a boy, were we?"

My eyes just about pop out of my head and my mouth drops open a little. I quickly recompose myself and stutter a reply.

"N-no." I lie unconvincingly. Gale laughs and my cheeks are flaming.

"Naww, that's sweet. But seriously, this dude hurts you and I'll have to go hunt him down with my favourite knife." he jokes.

I roll my eyes, slightly irritated. "I'm not your little sister." I remind him.

Gale shrugs. "Maybe not literally."

I laugh, happy he feels compassion for me, even if it is brotherly.

Mother smiles at me, and I catch a trace of relief in her eyes. She shoots a grateful look at Gale, who pretends not to notice. I think gratitude can sometimes make him feel uncomfortable.

And then, for the second time that day, something horrible happens to my sister in the Hunger Games.

**_There's a scream, and someone calls her name. I recognise the voice as that of the girl my age – Rue, I think. Yes, Rue. My sister's eyes flash with pain and fear._**

Fear. Katniss is afraid.

Gale's arm tightens around me, as Katniss races to find the little girl. Her eyes are wide with panic.

"Rue!" she screams loudly. Her voice is laced with the pain she's feeling. The screen is suddenly showing two things at once. My stomach lurches. It's the same clearing, on both sides. On the left, Katniss is running forward, finally seeing Rue. On the right, Rue is being slaughtered with a spear by the male tribute from District 1.

Katniss screams and shoots an arrow through his neck, but it's too late. Rue is going to die.

I don't realise I'm crying until I feel Gale's hand brush away my tears. I bury my head into his shoulder, and he strokes my hair. I try and devise a cure for her, but it's too late. The blood loss is too much. The spear has gone directly through her lower abdomen, damaging vital internal organs. Her body has just been through too much; she'll die in less than thirty seconds.

Gale abruptly stops stroking my hair. I lift my head to face the screen. And, despite the entire situation – despite the tears running down my face, I smile.

Maybe I'm insane. Maybe the events that have recently occurred in my life have caused me to become an unbalanced person, and my emotions are just running wild. It would explain a _lot_.

Because the sight of Katniss – who hates anything pink or even remotely girly – gently adorning Rue's small, lifeless frame with small wildflowers in shades of fuchsia and lilac, is quite possibly the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Katniss stands up when she is finished, and watches Rue being taken away.

The silence in the room is deafening, broken only by the sounds of weeping.

There's an angry, frustrated sound, and that of a chair being scraped across the floor. I look up, just as Gale storms out of the room.

* * *

**_Special thanks to Cookie. Monster 67 for giving me constructive criticism (: I don't bite, remember? I tried to make Gale more Gale-y during this chapter by adding attitude and him storming off and whatever, I know, he's still a bit soft. I like thinking he's a bit of a softy around Prim though (:_**

**_To bella-sk8er I'm very sorry about the lack of purple monkeys. The monkey queen had them all dyed yellow, and so therefore you wouldn't have seen them, seeing as all yellow monkeys are able to turn invisible (:_**

**_Review! :D_**


	16. Crying in the Rain

**_Heya! :D_**

**_I was so ecstatic about all the reviews for last chapter - and felt so guilty that it didn't go up for nine days - that I decided to upload this one early (YAYNESS!) and longer (DOUBLE YAY!) That and I'm just in a really good mood (:_**

**_Okay, I'm sorry for all of you guys who like PrimxGale, but 'NO' won. Personally, I sort of agree a little - remember that they are SIX YEARS apart. It's like a year six going out with a year twelve. I'm really really sorry, and please don't stop reading! I'm also very sorry to Vanity Storm and Honey Bea 1859 who I promised I would try and make them kiss in at least one part, ie this chap. It just doesn't fit in :( _**

**_I tried to include more stuff about the others in this especially for Narcissa-Weasly (: There'll be more in the next few chaps and I think it would be really cute if Posy started to look up to Prim like Prim looked up to Katniss. :D _**

**_To iNeonCrayon, elleheartsshoes, misspotterrules, bethany moon1456, crescentrose22 and shadowangel9999 thankyou sooooooo much for reviewing! And wlcome to the family! Hmmm, should we actuallt have titles and etc? Like I'll be the kid, and someone could be the sis, and the cousins, etc? Or am I just being weird?_**

**_To Archer117: Yes. Yes they do (:_**

**_To bella-sk8er: Nawww, thankyou! The Monkey Queen appreciates your concern. Same with me for the Rue thing :( It's so sad! _**

**_And finally to Honey Bea 1859 because your review made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside and your so epically sweet that the monkey queen is considering turning all the monkeys back into purple ones (:_**

**_After this extremely long A/N you probably skipped, I think I deserve reviews! REVIEW! ... The Monkey Queen said so._**

I stare at the door after he leaves.

Hazelle looks slightly exasperated, but not even remotely surprised or shocked. She sighs, like he does this far too often. Mother looks vaguely upset that he isn't coping well. Posy is fighting for the boys' attention, Vick is watching the Games. Rory picks Posy up and tickles her.

The normality of this snaps me out of my fuzzy state. With a sigh, I turn and walk out the door to go comfort him for what feels like it's the billionth time.

I'm a little sick of him doing this. I know it sounds bad. And I'd really love to say it's only because I think he'll hurt himself in the long run. Don't get me wrong – I'm worried about this as well. But truthfully, I'm a little bit _over_ him storming out of the room every time something goes wrong. We live in the _Seam_. Of course things go wrong.

I see Gale climbing over the fence, and thank the heavens I wore practical clothes today. I clamber over myself, pleased that I don't stumble. He's a little ahead of me, and I can tell by the way he's walking a little stiffly that he knows I'm behind him. I run to catch up to him.

"Gale," I say.

He turns on me.

"What Prim? You want to have another go at me for storming off? Want to tell me that I'm pathetic? How can you be calm about this?" he explodes.

I wince. Gale's never been truly angry at me before.

"Calm about what?" I ask him, in a neutral tone. Really I feel awful, but anger just hurts people. He's hurt enough without me adding to it. If I retaliate, he'll be in a worse state.

"This! All of it! Katniss going in. That Mellark kid. The bombs. The little girl dying. Couldn't you see how much she reminded Katniss of you? I've never heard her sing before. She told me she used to, before the mining accident. Never again. She would never sing for anyone – except you."

Ouch.

He's right. Katniss hasn't sung since Father died. I remember how much I miss music. Father used to sing me a lullaby for me before I went to sleep. Katniss would join in, smiling happily. Sometimes she'd sing it, just for the sake of it. Not since the accident. I remember how hard I cried that first night, when no-one sang. It seems silly. But that's when it sunk in – he wasn't coming back. I can feel the pressure-wave of emotions again.

_Don't cry, he's hurt enough._

"Gale, you can't-"

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT I CAN AND CAN'T DO!"

The silence is deafening. I refuse to cry. I just look at him steadily. His breathing is ragged, his eyes full of pain. I bite the inside of my lip.

"Gale. This doesn't help anyone. You're not helping anyone." I say, as calmly as I can. My voice catches a little.

He runs a hand through his hair.

"I need to- do something. I can't just sit here, Prim. I really can't. I've tried. I've tried so hard. But I just – can't do this."

I breathe out sharply.

"You are doing something-"

"I don't mean teaching people to heal themselves!" he shouted. "I'd rather do nothing! I can't just sit there and-"

"Then why-"

"You know what Prim? Forget it!"

He turns and stalks off.

"All you ever do is run away from things, Gale Hawthorne!" I scream at his silhouette. He stiffens slightly. I watch him walk further and further into the woods until he's out of sight.

It starts raining about two minutes in, so by the time I reach home, I'm drenched. The weather in District 12 is so unpredictable at this time of year. A few days ago, it was freezing; yet the air is sticky and the raindrops cool me down.

I love walking in the rain. No-one can tell you're crying.

They're still watching the Games as I return. A strong sense of déjà vu hits me, and I wonder whether Gale will want me to try and calm him down next time he blows up. If I have ruined everything. Seeing as I've thought I've ruined our friendship about four or five times this week, it's not likely, but he really has never been this mad at me before.

Hazelle shoots me a sympathetic look, stroking Posy's hair gently. I glance at the dark smudges underneath her eyes and feel a pang of guilt. Just because we know Katniss well doesn't mean Gale and I are the only ones who love her. Hazelle has enough to deal with, with the kids and all. On top of that, Gale is being even more volatile lately. It can't be easy for her. Her determination makes me smile; it's so much like my sister's.

I go and sit next to them, giving Posy's arm a squeeze. The younger girl's eyelids are drooping. They've stayed quite late a few nights this week; I guess it's getting to her. I smile fondly at her, and Hazelle sits her on my lap. She curls into a small ball, her head fitting perfectly beneath my chin.

"Are you sure you're not falling behind with the Laundry?" Mother asks Hazelle quietly, so as not to disturb Posy, Vic and Rory, the latter two of which were currently preoccupied by the television. "You've been watching the Games all week. There were a few baskets dropped off this morning as well..."

Hazelle waves her hand in a dismissive fashion at her. "I'll be fine," she says. "Besides, Katniss needs me more than the people of District 12..."

I perk up, feeling guilty again that I haven't taken notice of the way the others have been coping. "I'll help." I tell her eagerly.

Mother looks uncertain, but Hazelle smiles warmly. She's not silly enough to question my motives, but she does make sure I really would be fine with it. "There's quite a bit," she warns. "And it's not machine-operated. All hand-washed and hand-ironed. No electric dryer either," she frowns, but doesn't look embarrassed.

"Even more reason," I say firmly. "You can't do all that by yourself. I can help in the evenings."

"Definitely, Mum," Rory pipes up. "I can look after the kids, and Gale can go hunting. You're really behind at the moment. You were up 'till two this morning getting one batch done."

Hazelle grins at me. "That's very thoughtful, Prim. Thank you."

I look quickly at Mother. "Will you be okay?" I ask her. "It'll only be in the evenings. I can help with the apothecary during the day-"

Mother smiles at me reassuringly. "It's fine darling. As long as you don't overwork yourself."

My attention goes back to the television. Currently, they were focusing on the Career Pack. They were hunting.

I shiver, and Posy wriggles slightly. She yawns, and I stroke her hair, murmuring an apology.

I notice Peeta isn't with the Careers, and frown. I move closer, holding Posy tightly.

"Thank God Lover Boy's gone," grumbles Clove. "He was grating on my nerves."

Cato grunts in agreement. "Didn't hear a cannon though. Not since the middle of the day, and I didn't slice his leg 'till after that."

Clove shrugs, nonplussed. "He'll be gone soon. Heck, I'll be surprised if he lasts 'till morning. That was my best knife you got dirty, by the way," she teases him, grinning. "You'd better clean it."

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters. "Where's Marvel? He was meant to meet us back at camp." He notes.

Marvel is the boy from One. It's a little before sundown, so I guess they assumed that it wasn't him who was killed. I feel a pang of sympathy; sure, they're Careers, but they don't deserve to be in this position. I remember their satisfaction about Peeta's leg, though, and feel a bit sick.

The screen fades until we're looking at another, much darker part of the forest. Something is silhouetted against the now-setting sun, a rock? The thing moans, and I realise its Peeta. My eyes widen, he's collapsed to the ground out of pain and exhaustion. The footage has been edited so that you can still see the tributes properly after that last bit – perhaps it was left alone on purpose for dramatic effect? – and I wince at the damage. Blood pours from a slit about 38cm in length down the entire way of his thigh. It runs from just below his hip to just above his knee. His pant-leg has been pulled up out of the way, making the entire wound visible. It hasn't started to clot yet; he really needs to staunch the blood flow.

"Katniss," he murmurs softly. "Where are you?"

I don't know him. But I know his pain. Not the physical wound, though I have cut myself on the wire-fence around the Justice Building before. But the emotional wound left by someone you love not being there for you. Not being able to be there, or simply not caring. And I know that it hurts more than his leg.

I'm crying I watch the one person who really might love my sister as much as Gale and I fall to the ground and pass out.

* * *

Disclaimer:

****Prim: Can I do the disclaimer?

****Me: Sure!

****Gale: no way, it's my go!

****Me: Well you could have, but you decided to yell at Prim and make her cry, so NO!

****Prim: ... but now I feel guilty that Gale doesn't get a go, because he deserves one, and it's not like it's his fault that his best friend and the girl he loves was Reaped, and -

****Me: -_-

**_ Gale: I'M DOING IT!_**

**__****_ Me: Fine!_**

**__****__****_ Gale: Jassy Smiley doesn't own me or Prim or Rory or Posy or Vick or Hazelle or-_**

**__****__****__******Me: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING! Jeez, rub it in why don't you?


	17. An Announcement

**_Heya~!_**

**_I love the squiggly thing, don't you? ~ Does anyone actually know what it means? _****_Right, focus Jassy, focus. Oh wait, I'm on holidays already and I don't need to focus XD _**

**_Yeah I'm being totally random here, and a little weird. That might be due to the fact that I have drank four cans of coke, three lemonades, two esspresso coffees and a milo in the past 28 hours XD._**

**_Okay here's the deal: review and you get a shout out! Below are the names an messages to those who reviewd the last chappie! If this is you, scroll down till u find ur name!_**

**_Welcome to the family: Sam's Vampire Girl and Arin-Chan (: Thankyou for your epic reviews! _**

**_Also, I'm thinking of doing other ppls POVs, for example a chappie in Gale's POV? Or Posy's? your opinions please!_**

**_MountainAir: I agree completely ! (: I'll start the relating to others in the next chap :D_**

**_Vanity Storm: Happy Holidays to you as well sweetie! (: (:_**

**_Archer117: oh yeah everyone loves the monkeyys :D_**

**_iHateTurkeys: I'm sorry! :( Blame the people who voted no! :( or the purple monkeys... I feel they have something to do with the whole thing..._**

**_Honey Bea 1859: Naww thankyou sweetie! Ilove rainbow cake! Must try to bake one in the hols!_**

**_MaryaBadica-Ivashkov: ikr? Gale is too angst-y. More happiness and sunshine, I forsee... LOL btw, did you know you have an awesome author name? _**

**_Crescentrose22: Naww thanks sweetie! (: If there is anything in particular you'd like me to add to the story, just ask!_**

**_Narcissa-Weasly: Naww (: I'M THAT KID IN MY FAMILY! LOL i remember when I was like eight and I was reading an 800 page book and my Aunty was all 'don't you think you should have packed one in case you finish that one early?' as a joke, and I dug the sequel out of my bag to show her that I was way prepared._**

**_shadowangel9999: Naww, thanks so much! I try! (:_**

**_bella-sk8er: (: .Epic. That is all :D_**

**_Sam's Vampire Girl: Naww, you're so sweet! Seriously, your review made my day! Thankyou for being so epic!_**

**_Arin-chan: Thankyou so much! xxxxx_**

* * *

Gale walks back in like nothing had happened – bar the fact that he completely ignores me. I adopt a nonplussed facade, taking comfort in the smell of Posy's curls; she is still asleep in my lap most of the afternoon.

In the arena, it's afternoon. I wince as I see Katniss alone and shivering in a tree, her lips purple from the lack of warmth. She stayed there after last night, unwilling to leave the security of her branch. Peeta's condition is far worse though. Bacteria are disallowing the wound to clot, which also makes it vulnerable to infection. I'm aghast as to why he hadn't been sent anything from his sponsors – I know he and Katniss had plenty from all of the 'behind the scenes' updates. I recall the burn cream Katniss was sent when she was injured by the wall of fire, and vaguely remember another gift she had, but I'm far too tired to think of exactly what it is. Poor Peeta.

I watch the screen flick from each tribute, showing them for about a minute each. Clove and Cato are trying (and failing) to find a source of food, seeing as Katniss and Rue blew up their supplies yesterday. The thought of Rue makes my tear-ducts prickle, and I shake my head firmly, ignoring Gale's would-be-furtive concerned look, turning my attention back toward the screen.

The girl from Nine is simply sitting high up in a tree, contemplating her next moves no doubt. She makes me nervous, that one. Too cunning, too dangerous. If I had to bet on a tribute other than Katniss it would be her, not the Careers. I do believe in Karma though, so hopefully whatever she has given out will come back to her soon. (I always feel so guilty thinking stuff like that though.)

Thresh is coping completely. If it came down to survival only, he would win. Apart from Katniss though. It's funny how I keep thinking that. I automatically rule her out as the best. And I know she is. But these Games are harsh, and sometimes factors like timing and pure luck can make a situation in a matter of moments. Things happen for a reason, and they can't be changed. I hope that Thresh wins, If Katniss doesn't. There's something about him that I trust, despite his stereotypical build and intimidating demeanor.

I frown, as they go back to Katniss. The camera must literally love her, because on her own, she has received at least a quarter of the total air-time. But why have they gone back to her?

I go through each remaining tribute and each loss mentally, frowning and reflexively hugging Posy closer to me. I come to a starting realisation.

There are only six tributes left.

It really hits me, that she has a chance of winning. She'll never be the same again, of course. The mental strain will be extremely hard to bear – and I doubt she'll ever recover fully. The memories will haunt her forever. But she'll be alive.

She has to win. Please, please let her win. There are only five more left...

The thought has barely even crossed my mind when it smashes to a split-view – Six windows with Claudius Templesmith in the centre, Katniss to the far left, Cato and Clove in the near left, Peeta in the centre-right, the girl from Nine that Katniss calls Foxface to the near right and Thresh to the far right.

"Congratulations to our six remaining tributes! Might I say that this has been one of the best Games I've seen in years!" He pauses slightly before continuing, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement. I find it both sickening and unbelievable that he finds the slaughter of children exciting.. "And to add to the excitement, there has been a rule change."

Gale's gaze meets my own across the room, and I see my own emotions reflected in them. Anxiety. Curiosity. Pain. Grief. Distress. Distrust.

It lasts barely a second, but all I want to do is curl up into a ball and sob.

I turn my attention back to the screen, thousands of hopeless scenarios forming in my mind.

_What if they drop the temperature in the arena until she dies of hypothermia?_

_What if they decide to bring in a new form of mutation that kills her?_

_What if they let loose a new form of bacteria formed that kills them in seconds?_

_What if they bring back the bodies of the former tributes to kill the remaining ones?_

_What if she doesn't win?_

_What if no-one does?_

"If the last two tributes standing are from the same district… Both tributes may live."

Claudius repeats this new law twice, but all of the tributes heard it the first time.

Clove gives a girl-ish squeal I would have dubbed her incapable of, wraps her arms around Cato's neck and flings herself at him, kissing him fiercely. My eyes widen, but those two were either going to hate or love each other.

'Foxface' (It feels odd to call her anything else with Katniss forever referring to her as so), merely ponders this new information, a pensive look crossing her face. She is no doubt wondering how to use this rule to her advantage, despite the fact that she is without a partner. Her mouth curves up in an impish smile, and she hops off smirking darkly.

Thresh merely looks a little grief-stricken. I can tell by his eyes that he has a kind heart, and the pain in them when Rue died – even before the rule was introduced – nearly broke my heart all over again. He sighs resignedly, raking his hands through his hair and picking up his satchel. His mournful expression portrays his regret at being chosen to be a tribute, and his face looks slightly disbelieving, as if he is wondering why anyone in their right mind would be a Career.

Katniss sits up straight in her tree, her eyes wide and alert. She immediately begins throwing her few possessions in the faded orange backpack, before swinging it over her right shoulder and hopping from tree to tree, already in search of Peeta.

I can help but think she will be too late.

His face is deathly pale, without even the dark smudges of sleepless nights to give him the little colour he had prior to his injury. The pallor is almost translucent in the sunset. He covers himself with leaves, camouflaging himself completely, but I honestly don't think that will help anything. That's kind of wound… in that kind of environment…. He'll be extremely lucky to make it until the next day.

Please find him, Katniss. He needs healing. You can help him.

It's odd though. As I watch the split screen showing of Katniss hopping from tree to tree, calling out Peeta's name with an anxiety-stricken expression, I change the words around in my head.

You need healing. He can help you.

Physical wounds are bad. Mental wounds are worse. Both of these people are so broken in so many ways. I suddenly realize why Gale has been harping on about the Capitol all of this time. This brokenness is their fault. Neither Katniss nor Peeta will ever be the same again after this. There is no way anyone – even the Capitol medical teams – will be able to heal Peeta's leg fully. But there is no way Katniss will ever recover from the mental trauma.

I haven't been paying that close attention as I've thought through all of this – merely staring at the stripy pattern on Vick's second-hand cotton shirt – so the next sentence startles me completely.

"Hello sweetheart. Come to finish me off?"

* * *

_**YAYNESS! I don't know why I'm so happy, but I just am! I'm actually really tired as well, despite the excess caffeine and sugar running through my veins. I think I shall go to sleep soon. (: **_

_**Review! I promise I will reply to every review in my A/Ns! No Matter How Many, Jassy Will Reply - It's What She Lives For and What She Lives By!  
... Not really, but it sounded cool XD Seriously though, I will!**_

_**Au revoir mes petite champignonnes. **_


	18. The Laundry

Naww, you guys are so epic! Nine reviews in less than 24 hours? The Monkey Queen decided that I put one up extra early as a celebratory gesture!

**_Don't forget to give your opinion on the possibility of a Gale POV or a Hazelle POV or even Prim's Mum. (: Maybe a Gale one so we can see him relate to someone as well?_**

**_Also, do you think I should continue until Catching Fire? And if I do, should I continue it in this story, or create a new one?_**

**_Thankyou to all my epic reviewers! Shout outs are below! Welcome to the family, Abject Tears, and RandomGeek!_**

**_

* * *

_**

Shoutouts:

**__**

Ajbect Tears: Naww, thankyou. I know Gale's being a bit of a jerk, but he really is under a lot of pressure atm. He'll come round when he starts talking to (INSERT NAME OF MYSTERY PERSON HERE) for comfort (: (hint hint)

**_crescentrose22: Thanku! (: Nope, not USA, Australia. (: Most of the caffeine's out of my system now though, thank goodness :D Thanks for the opinion on the different POVs especially! (: What POV do you think I should do?_**

**__**ihateturkeys: No probs (: YAY MILO! LOL my friend has a dog called milo... awkward silence. I didn't eat him though. I had an actual milo... Wow I didn't know you could be this awkward in text. but yeah... Milo rules. Not the dog. The drink. Though the dog rules as well. Shutting up now...

Honey Bea 1859: Naww, you're not THAT bad at cooking! How good is rainbow cake though! It's awesome! But not as awesome as you! :D

.xx: Naww, thankyou so much!

soccachick666: Hmm, I think if she gets into a relationship it should be a little later in the story. But I think you're right about Rory - she and him make an adorable couple!

RandomGeek: Oops :L I'll fix that up later, ta for the constructive criticism. :D

bella-sk8er: Naww thankyou! (: hmm, should I make Gale go all angry at everyone the first time Peeta and Katniss kiss? :O Gale's being a jerk at the moment though. Bad Gale. Too mean. :( I thinks I shall fix that soon (:

MountainAir: Naww, Thankyou! You're awesome! :D

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_**Disclaimer:**_

_**Yeah,... no. But I have two jars of peanut butter! :D No joke, for Kris Kringle, my friend got me a jar of peanut butter and a box of oreos! heaven! But I still don't own the Hunger Games. Baby steps? Jokes I'll never own such an epic story. Though I do think this one's pretty epic XD.**_

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My mouth drops open. Against all odds, my sister has found him.

Well, found might not be exactly the right term – he's hidden himself so well that she is dumbfounded as to where on earth his voice is coming from. He chuckles and I smile, remembering all the times Katniss has let me stop at the bakery to look at all the cakes in the window. He told me one time that he decorated all of them by himself; Katniss was preoccupied with a small stall selling leather gloves. It made me sad at the time that she couldn't buy them.

He opens his eyes, and Katniss finally finds him. He laughs slightly, but it scares me how weak it is. Katniss smiles, a little shocked at his ability to camouflage himself.

"Close your eyes," she asks curiously. He does as he's told and she gasps, unable to find him. It's amazing.

She drags him out of the water, and he updates her on what happened to his leg. She rolls up the fabric of his pant leg and pales visibly. I would have laughed at my sister's squeamishness – had the situation not be of the life or death sort. As it is, Peeta's leg has grown worse; the bacteria forming small but visible colonies at the sides of the wound. The skin around it has a bruised quality, and his skin in general is pale beyond belief. He's lost weight – a lot of it – and his face looks a little hollow. I can't remember when the last time the screen depicted him eating was, and all he's had to drink was the moisture leaking through the soil.

Katniss half-carries, half-drags him into the stream and begins cleaning him up a little. She has to roll him for part of it, and I see a pained expression cross Peeta's face. She has to cut his shirt off him, which is hard enough as it is. It's encrusted with Peeta's dried blood, and sticking to the wound. I watch my sister resist the urge to gag, carefully pulling Peeta's shirt off. Gale stiffens slightly and I resist the urge to laugh. Peeta looks surprised at his appearance; he must have lost a _lot_ of weight. His skin has a waxy tone to it, far different from the golden complexion he had in District 12.

Katniss sits beside him, asking him to sit up so she can treat his wounds. I can't help but be a little apprehensive about her healing someone – last time she tried to treat a cold, they ended up with pneumonia, God knows how – but what choice do they have. She sits him up, washing the tracker-jacker stings and burns. Peeta sighs in relief as she carefully smears the burn ointment onto his chest, before leaning back and digging around in her satchel for food.

"You must be hungry," she says, frowning.

I frown as well, trying to remember the last time he ate. My eyes widen in alarm when he shakes his head.

"Not really," he says. "It's funny, I haven't been hungry for a few days now."

Oh, God.

He is so close to dying. His body won't be able to handle all the things it's had to go through. I realise that's why the wound isn't clotting – how can his immune system fight disease and infection when he's so malnutritioned?

Katniss looks at him with a 'that's-not-funny-at-all' expression, and shoves a quail wing at him. He frowns in disgust and turns his head away. My alarm is growing by the minute. If he doesn't eat, he will die.

She manages to coax some food into him, then begins cleaning his leg. I giggle mentally at Katniss' expression when pus seeps out of the wound. She gags slightly, and Peeta looks at her questioningly.

"I'm no good at this," she admits, her cheeks colouring slightly. "I'm not my Mother. I have no idea what I'm doing and I absolutely hate pus," she emphasises her last few words, letting out a small yelp of disgust when more comes out.

Mother smiles a little, finding Katniss' way of looking at the world as odd as I do. How can she find killing things not disgusting, yet cringe at the sight of pus?

"How do you hunt?" Peeta echoes my own thoughts in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood.

Katniss rolls her eyes. "Killing things is much easier than this, trust me," she says. "Although for all I know I'm killing you." She frowns, and I do as well. Poor Katniss. Though, she's doing fairly well at treating Peeta's leg. Unfortunately with the lack of resources he's likely to get blood poisoning in the next few days – there's too much infection in the wound. She did good trying to get rid of all of the pus though.

"Can you speed it up a little?" Peeta jokes. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gale look as though he agrees wholeheartedly with this idea, and frown.

"No," says Katniss firmly. "Now shut up and eat your pears."

I laugh at her bluntness, and Mother and Hazelle chuckle. Gale just wears a dark expression, like he'd prefer if she just shot him.

She smears more burn ointment onto the leg, and I smile sadly. It's not going to help – it has entirely the wrong ingredients. Oh well. She bandages it as well, which will reduce the amount of infection, but overall she hasn't really reduced the amount of infection that much.

Katniss shoves a backpack at him and goes to wash his shorts. I'm laughing again at her squeamishness, and a questioning look crosses Peeta's face again – before he realises why he gave him her backpack.

"Oh, I don't care if you see me," he shrugs indifferently. Gale growls reflexively and I roll my eyes.

Katniss sighs in exasperation. "You're just like my family. _I care_, okay?"

She turns back towards the screen and begins washing his shorts.

The Gamemakers obviously find this display boring, as the screen flicks back to the Careers. They don't show Katniss and Peeta again until the end of the segment. She's managed to drag him up to one of the small caves, and he's fallen asleep. The show cuts off there and I stretch, jostling Posy. She stirs slightly, and Hazelle holds her arms out. I hand her to Hazelle, stretching again.

"Do you want me to do some washing tonight?" I ask her.

Hazelle looks at me with raised eyebrows. "Are you sure honey," she asks. "You look dead on your feet."

I shake my head. "It's fine," I stifle a yawn. "I'm not tired."

Mother looks at me apprehensively but Hazelle just shrugs. I walk next door with her, ignoring Gale. Vick and Rory are whisper-shout-arguing about who gets the good plate tonight.

Hazelle tucks Posy into her makeshift bed of a small-ish basket with a few lengths of cloth in it. Posy curls up into a ball, sucking on her fingers. I smile fondly at the younger girl, kissing her cheek.

The kitchen has a few large baskets filled to the brim with dirty rainwater – Hazelle leaves them out in a storm – and clothes in them. She hands me a stick and I begin stirring the mixture, the water slopping out of the sides. She pours a little homemade disinfectant in the water to kill all of the bugs. After I've given it a good stir, she drains the water and fills it again with some from a rusty tank they had installed. It collects rainwater, but Hazelle still leaves the baskets in the rain. She never waists anything. The new water is heated, and removes any extra dirt. We then hang them around the house on string, and repeat the process.

It's relaxing and repetitive, and I allow my mind to wander while I carry it out. I worry about Katniss and Peeta and their situation. It's an awful one to be in, that's for sure. I hope that Peeta's leg can hold out for a few days. Maybe Foxface and Thresh will be killed by Cato and Clove? Then those two can... I don't know. I feel a little depressed and disgusted that I'm fantasising about the other killing each other off, but what choice do I have? If it comes to them or my sister, I'll choose her every time. It's so horrible that anyone has to die though.

"Prim, honey," Hazelle says suddenly. "Are you alright?"

I look up at her, realising that I haven't spoken in the last two hours. Her brown eyes are soft, concern etched into her face. I wonder how long she's been looking at me, my cheeks colouring. I chew my lip, considering the question.

"Not really," I say honestly. I look at the floor, willing the tears to go back where they came from. The flood of emotion washes over me again, and I curse myself for it. I keep trying to keep busy so that this doesn't happen as often, but still.

"Oh, sweetie."

She hugs me suddenly, and the tears fall. I sniffle into her shirt, and she strokes my hair.

"You're so young... Neither you or your sister should have to deal with this," she tells me.

More tears fall, and with them comes the guilt I always have, that I can't be strong enough. If our positions were reversed, Katniss would be strong. Our positions _should_ be reversed. It should be _me_ in that arena, not her. Why did she volunteer for me?

"B-but I'm not really dealing with anything," I hiccup. "She's the one going through it all, yet all I do is mope about the house in a melancholy state. Why am I like this? She wouldn't be."

Hazelle looks at me, pity and sympathy crossing her face. "Oh sweetie. You're so young. You overestimate yourself. Katniss is four years older than you. Of course she's strong. You're strong too, you know."

I shake my head at her. "No I'm not," I tell her.

"Yes you are," she says firmly. "You might not be strong in the same way as Katniss, but you are strong. She admires you as well, you know. If you'd been up there on that screen, you would have known exactly what to do with Peeta's leg, and you know it. You're strong in a different way, Prim, but you are strong."

I'm still unconvinced. If I was strong, I wouldn't keep bursting into tears. I tell Hazelle this, and she just smiles sadly.

"Do you know," she says. "That I cried the night my husband died?"

I look up at her, surprised. It's funny, but Hazelle is always so stoic. She's exactly like Katniss in that way. Determined, hard and sometimes even a little cold. Passionate, strong. I've never seen her cry – or Katniss for that matter. It just doesn't fit.

"No?" I say.

She smiles sadly at me again. "Everyone cries sometime. No-one is ever strong all the time. Just because you always see Katniss as the strong, stoic girl she wants everyone to see doesn't mean she is that way all of the time."

She holds me for what feels like forever, until I fall asleep. I'm vaguely aware of her talking, and I yawn sleepily. Someone else picks me up, folding me into their arms carefully. They lay me on my bed, kissing my forehead softly and whispering a goodnight.

It's only a few hours later, when I wake up, that I realise it was Gale.

Why is it that he always does stuff like that? We fought yesterday, and yet he still kisses my forehead and carries me home.

I guess he'll only ever see me as his little sister.

For the first time, I'm content with this. I'm not sure if it's because I've realised that he'll never see me as anything more, or if it's just because I'm not sure if I'll ever be anyone else's little sister again.

The Games are drawing to a close, and Peeta's condition is only worsening.

_Please let them win it. Please._


	19. Cheated

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**_Hiya!_**

**__******I'm so tired I can't think! YAY! I got a grand total of... wait for it... two hours sleep last night! YAY. Or not YAY. Hmmmm

****Please please pretty pretty please read my other fanfics? They're all neglected. A wellnourished fanfic needs reviews and hits to allow it to grow and the Mummy (or Author) to not get bored with it and just chuck the whole thing. Wow that sounded kinda creepy :L But please do! I've joint-written one the link to which is on my profile, and the other one is all my, click on my profile and scroll down to my stories! They're for Gallagher Girls and Halo (:

For some reason, I wake up feeling extremely happy and optimistic. It's fairly ridiculous of course – as I've confirmed previously, my life at the moment is a little... messed up. But I feel like everything will blow over, and it'll all be okay in the end.

I'm humming when Mother walks in to the kitchen, a simple tune Father used to sing to us. She kisses me on the forehead, and gives me a sad smile. Glancing at the emotions in her eyes, I realise she thinks I'm being brave... or that I don't know any better. I turn my head, frowning. It doesn't feel like I'm being naive... but then again, if I was, would I be able to tell? I sigh, resigned. Can't one be optimistic?

But I guess there is little place in our world for happiness.

The Hawthornes arrive at a little past eight, and I bend to pick up a familiar package wrapped in brown paper, tied with a length of string. There've been small parcels of bread rolls and cookies all week. I glance at Mother with my eyebrows raised, but she doesn't notice. Shrugging, I pick up the parcel; I may be naive but I know not to question food. Where it came from, what is what, what is cost... It was food, and it was a great deal more than many in the District had.

I hug the parcel to my chest, heat seeping into me through the brown paper. It smells mouth watering, and they're still so warm. I dump the package on the kitchen table, along with a jug of cold water, an iron kettle of hot water, and the pot of tea leaves. It's chamomile tea – meant to soothe and calm those who drink it. We usually leave it for patients with anxiety and depression, but the pot is almost full, and today we are the ones who are anxious.

We split the rolls from the day before yesterday; we've been trying to ration them. The temptation of fresh bread is far too much, though, and we end up eating the ones from today. Its quality bread, filled with seeds and tiny pieces of fruit. The outsides of the rolls are dark brown and crusty, they make funny crackling sounds when we bite into them. The insides are soft and light in colour, it feels like Heaven in my mouth.

I've never had fresh bread before this week.

Even up until today, we've always rationed, eating bread threeb or more days old. I wonder what it would be like, to live in the Capitol, able to afford as much food as you wanted. Would you ever truly be satisfied? I've only just now tasted fresh bread – what if it was available to me at the press of a button? I think of all the victors, fat and dependent on some sort of drug; alcohol, morphling... some of them smoke a green powdery substance wrapped in paper called 'nicolite' by lighting it on fire. Is it right for them to indulge themselves, even if it will eventually cause them pain? After a life lived out like mine or Posy's I wouldn't blame them, especially considering the horrors they would have faced in the arena. But Capitol citizens... I wonder how many of them have actually felt hunger before. How many have been sick? How many have had to wear clothes passed down from siblings, which were passed down from their parents, which were passed down from _their_ siblings, which were most likely bought for far too much at the markets, second-hand, used by merchants?

I feel guilty eating fresh bread.

How can they ignore the way the people in Districts starve?

Hazelle's familiar, comforting tone snaps me out of my reverie. Life isn't fair, I think sadly.

I dream of a perfect world, where there is one 'proper' leader – a minister from the history books? – but everyone votes on rules and laws. That proper leader is voted in by the people, and so are any other leaders.

An expanse of blue – is the sky meant to be blue? I've seen paintings, but never before a _blue_ sky... our sky is grey, filled with smog – and white. White clouds, white buildings. People dressed in bright colours, instead of the drab browns and greys we wear. Not the grey world we live in, with the grey clouds and the grey skies, the grey buildings, the grey_ people_. A world with light and colour and life and love and golden rays of sunlight.

Sometimes you can see the sun through the smog, just for a second, before it disappears. Sure, there's enough light to do daily jobs and to grow thin, worn crops, but it's like there's a veil over the country. Not just of smog but of darkness itself, of grief, illness, fatigue, starvation, death. But when the sunlight peeks through the clouds, I can imagine a better world, where skies are blue and trees are properly green – like that green dress I once saw Madge Undersee wear. Not grey-green.

Sometimes I get sick of living in a grey world.

I bite into the softness of the bread, and forget about my troubles for now, a little ashamed they appeared in the first place.

I'm lucky. I eat two – sometimes even three – meals a day, each enough to fill a tea mug. I eat meat and protein once every two days. I have a goat which provides us with milk and calcium. I have clothes that can keep me warm.

So why am I suddenly starting to feel like I've been cheated?

I think Gale might be rubbing off on me.

****Calm your farm, I know this is a short chappie (i'm so obsessed with the word chappie! chappie chappie chappie!) I'll try and get the next one up ASAP. I would write more but this one seemed to end really nicely here :D Shoutouts are below, the next chappie will be Other POVs

**_Thankyou very much to all my awesome reviewers!  
Introducing: Cheerleader95, artist1157 and ashli101! YAY!_**

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Shoutouts!

MaryaBadica-Ivashkov: hell to the yeah for VA! 'cept I'm more of a Dimka kinda girl (: Next chappie will be in Hazelle's POV and Gale's POV :D

****Sam's Vampire Girl: Ikr? I h8 sleep deprivation. Someone woke me up at six. In the holidays. I NEVER GET UP BEFORE 11 am IN THE HOLIDAYS EVEN IF THERE'S A TSUNAMI. I GOT TWO HOURS SLEEP! ARGHHH! ahwell . nawww, thanks bout the chapp (: (: When I get nice reviews I feel all warm and fuzzy. I 3 how pissed Gale always is Peeta... hmmm still deciding what I should make his reaction be... throw something? Must decide...OMG I THOUGHT THE MULTICOLOURED TOE SOCKS THING WAS JUST ME! I once had this really cute rainbow pair, with Cat In the Hat on them, and within the first week of my having them, one of them was gone :( ahwell, life sucks, gnomes are just haters. :D

****Cheerleader95: Um? I don't get it -.-

****crescentrose22: naww, you're sweet (: Just for you, I'll throw in a Ms Everdeen POV next chappie :D

****artist1157: naww (: Not cliche at all. :D I don't want to make Prim get all jealous though, it's not like her. I think he should definitely break something... but what to break?

****ashli101: naww, thankyou. (: I love the word naww how cool is it? lol yeah, the votes against PrimxGale won, so they're going to be all brother-sisterly now (: yay!

****bella-sk8er: The Monkey Queen bows to you my friend. Your awesomeness and sweetness is to be highly commended. What are thouests' thoughts on the objectith the Gale-san should breathith to show his extreme angerness?

****Honey Bea 1859: Nawww, you are so epically sweet chocolate is getting worried you'll take over! :D Um, one thing though - 18 + 2 is 20, not 25 Holiday mode kicked in? dw, it kicked in for me during week 6 ! :D Plus your cooking is so not that bad!

****Narcissa-Weasly: Oops, I keep putting Foxface as Nine, I've no idea why? I get my fives and nines mixed up :L LOL just becaused I do advanced math doesn't mean I want to ahaha. Hmmm, interesting point on Greasy Sae... I might put that one up later though, so it's more detailed? The next chappie is just short ones (:

****nerdsman92: Naww, thanks :) She's so adorable (: I sometimes feel like I'm in the Capitol, reading about Prim and Katniss. Major guilt factor. :(

****MountainAir: Naww, you're epic (: I'm having a teensy bit of trouble with Hazelle for the next chappie... She's so capable of everything... Do you think she should secretly find it funny when she's yelling at Vick and Rory to stop fighting? Or should she just be all 'naww, they're so sweet'? Hmm? Or... idk. I'm too tired to think. :L Ah well, send me your opinion please!


	20. Perception

_**I am so so sorry :(**_

_**Okay, so what happened was, my school laptop (which we take home with us) well it's charger broke. **_

_**And it died. **__**:(**_

_**Which meant I couldn't access any of the chapters on my laptop as well.**_

_**My friend leant me her laptop charger for a couple days (hence me UD today) but there's no way I'll be able to UD as regularly as I have before, at least until 1st of Feb where I can get a new charger. So so so sorry, and I'll try and do some on my home comps, but It won't be as often.**_

_**Sorry again! **_

**Disclaimer:**

**I don't own the Hunger Games, Prim, Hazelle, Gale, Posy... or anything really. I just like to play with the characters and write them into the environment I still don't own. (:**

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**Hazelle's POV**

"Get off me you loser!"

"Don't steal my socks next time then!"

"Excuse me if you were dumb enough to lose your socks!"

"Yeah, right! Give 'em back or I'll stay here for the rest of your pitiful life."

"It's virtually impossible, you're going to have to pee and eat sometime, derbrain!"

"I'll get Posy to bring me food and when I need to pee, I'll-"

"KNOCK IT OFF YOU TWO!" I roar, holding on to Posy in my right arm and a large basket of washing in my left.

Vick and Rory look sheepish, the former with a slightly indignant nature, his eyebrows still furrowed in a classic 'It-Was-All-His-Fault' expression. He sits on top of Rory, who still has sleep in the corners of his eyes and drool at the corner of his mouth.

"He stole my socks," whines Vick feebly.

My eyes narrow and he immediately hops off Rory, backing away. I glared at Rory, who swallows, grabbing a pair of faded black socks out from his pillow case and throwing them at Vick. Vick glares at his brother, but he wouldn't dare start fighting again. I'm in a no-nonsense mood. With my 'Give-Mummy-A-Break-Or-She's-Gonna-Lose-It' face, I sweep across the floor and out the door, my long skirt brushing the cracked tiles and making my entrance seem even more dramatic. I have about twelve seconds of peace and quiet, filling the basket to the brim out of the rainwater tank in the backyard, before all hell breaks loose. Again.

Vick and Rory immediately begin tackling each other, screaming obscenities at their opponent. Posy wailed and clutched at my hair. Buttercup had come to visit from next door – he often took care of the mice – and was nudging against my foot with his wet nose.

Straightening up, I put Posy down on the rug and gave her a raisin tied up in a handkerchief, which she sucked on greedily. Picking up Buttercup, I headed toward the Living/Bed Room where we all slept. I dropped him as we passed the small kitchen – it was more of a cupboard really – and he leapt at the mouse which was running across the sink. With the basket – which was now slopping water everywhere – tucked firmly under my arm, I opened the door to the bedroom, composing my face into a mask of intimidation and anger.

Despite all the frustration radiating from me, I had to fight the urge to laugh when they caught sight of me.

Both boys froze, terror crossing their faces.

"Up. Now," I growled, trying desperately not to laugh.

Both of them scrambled to get up, tripping over the others' limbs in the process. It took them 78 seconds to stop being idiotic, the whole of which I stood there, menacing. The washing basket was still tucked under my arm, making me look like the Mother of Deathly Fury.

They stood perfectly straight and still, like little Peacekeeper trainees. Still fighting to remain menacing and intimidating, I took a step towards them. Half of the water from the basket was now gone.

"Now so help me, if you two start arguing for the next three days, I will not only stop permitting you two to leave the house, but I will also make you sleep on the floor, stop you from going to the Everdeens', and talk to your respective teachers about extra homework on the History of Panem, got it?"

"Y-yes," they stammered, fear evident in their eyes.

"Good. Vick, go do the dishes. Rory, go dress Posy."

They ran out of the room and I laughed quietly, placing the basket on the floor. Sure, my kids sometimes frustrated the hell out of me... but they were still my kids. I loved them very much. I stirred the mixture for awhile, before picking it back up to dump it outside.

I laughed when I heard the sound of two arguing teenage boys from outside.

_Some things don't change_, I smiled.

It was good to have those things when everything else had changed recently.

**Gale's POV**

_I am calm._

_I am in control. _

_I am deadly._

_Oh, crap!_

The fourth rabbit that day scampered off, not even having the decency to look scared. It twitched its nose at me, momentarily surprised. Then, with an air of exasperation, it hopped off into its burrow.

I'd been out there for three hours, and all I had was a quail, a squirrel and a baby rabbit.

For some reason, I felt a pang of guilt when I caught the rabbit.

Seriously. I'd been hunting for over seven years, and I felt guilty over one baby rabbit? It was insane. But true. The second I took it's twitching body out of the snare, I felt a pang of regret mingled with guilt.

_Thanks a lot Prim, you've now made me into a wimp._

I sighed, hauling the bag of the little game I'd collected over my shoulder with my pack. I couldn't really stay out here much longer. It hadn't even helped, anyhow. All I could see was her undressing him, bathing his wounds and...

Angrily, I shot an arrow into the woods for no good reason. I sighed at my impulsiveness; now I was going to have to retrieve it.

I was so messed up.

What was I meant to do?

For awhile, being with Prim helped. Urgh, not like that! Sure, I caught the looks she gave me sometimes, but I was hoping she grew out of it. She was too... Prim. To sweet, to innocent, to optimistic, to young. She deserved much better than me.

Hunting with her, watching her, being friends with her... it helped a lot. She was so unbelievably _good_. It helped calm me a little, being around her. Prim just helped people, it was second nature to her. Without even meaning it, though, she tended to make people feel better. It was hard to explain... but it was like... her essence? Sort of... It just made being around her like being in the sunshine.

But again, not like that. She was really like my little sister. Plus, the idea of Katniss coming out of the Games and kicking my butt wasn't to inviting. The idea of Katniss in general...

This was one of the things that frustrated me. _She doesn't see you in that way_, I scorned myself, jumping over a log. With a shock, I realised I'd accidentally shot a turkey. Grinning, I added it to the pile of game. It was much smaller than it would be if I'd been hunting with her, but that really couldn't be helped.

I ran my hand through my hair, sighing again. She was making me crazy. Everything. The whole charade Mellark was putting on about them being together. The fact that it wasn't a charade for him. The fact that I didn't know what it was to her. The fact that she could be dying, right now, and I wouldn't know until at least nine.

The woods usually calmed me down, but today I just had too much steam. I kicked a rock lying on the ground and it skidded about six metres away. I picked it up and threw it another twenty metres. It smashed into a tree trunk and cracked in half.

I was just so sick of doing nothing.

What would Katniss say, if she saw her baby sister working in the apothecary, the laundry, hunting, gathering herbs and essentially raising her _mother_ on her own?

I shook my head. None of us deserved this life.

At least Prim could still be optimistic. I'd turned dark and cynical when I was barely eight. One of four kids, no father, starving, living off the few coins we got through washing merchants' clothes, listening to them complain that they weren't cleaned properly... It made you dark and cynical on its own. When I'd realised some people were far better off even the merchants; never hungry, never thirsty, never sick, never grieving... yeah. Cynicism. And darkness.

And, of course, I'd had to go and screw things up with mine and Prim's friendship as well.

She was right. I was always running away.

I wasn't afraid of the Games. I wasn't afraid of the Capitol. Heck, I wasn't even afraid of Katniss most of the times (though the last week I'd certainly been afraid _for_ her).

But for some reason, her little twelve-year-old angelic sister with her gold curls and blue eyes made me terrified.

Not of her, exactly. Of what she thought, sort of... I don't know. I was far too much a coward to actually apologise to her, anyhow. I had no idea what to do. I knew she was right, but I couldn't really wrap my head around the words to say.

Katniss and I weren't very verbal people. If we'd ever fight, neither of us would say sorry. Words, they're just meaningless. Limited. I'd show her something, or give her something, or teach her a new snare. Showing that you're sorry is so much easier, and has much more worth. How can you even tell that someone is telling you the truth? Words are so easily formed and so easily false.

Prim was so different though. She wasn't verbal exactly... more like she could read people. But I usually just kept a mask covering anything other than darkness and cynicism and sheltering it from people. Unless I was angry of course. But that really couldn't be helped. When I felt anger... I just lost it. I'd learnt to just walk away so nothing _that_ bad happened... But was Prim right? Was I just running away from everything?

This is why I was kind of scared of her.

Forever I'd been the guy who didn't say anything that wasn't sarcastic, didn't do anything unless something was done for him in return.

Prim was making me feel guilty and thoughtful.

What the hell was wrong with me?

**Mrs Everdeen's POV**

I rubbed my eyes and yawned, rolling over to my husband's side of the bed. It'd been over four years now, but the emptiness always brought back a wave of grief.

Sighing, I stripped off his shirt and pulled a passable floral dress over my head. I'd been able to take a few nice dresses with me when I left home, but most of my good frocks were still in my old house, collecting dust, if my parents hadn't sold them to market of course. They'd basically disowned me the second I'd married a miner. A wry smile came across my lips, immediately chased away by a sad one.

Four years and I still woke up every morning, filled with grief and depression.

I ran a comb through my messy curls and tied a crisp, white apron over my dress. Primrose was humming in the kitchen, and I smiled fondly at her. The poor girl was hopelessly optimistic, and a little naive. Katniss and Peeta both were in an incredibly vulnerable situation. It was horrible to think, but I knew my eldest daughter had very little chance of winning. Hope and optimism... they'd faded over the years. I wasn't cynical, like Gale, and the realisation that our world was one of death and starvation hadn't made me determined, like Hazelle. I was weak and depressive. Guilt was always the underlying emotion.

I hoped my littlest daughter never lost her optimism.

Her forehead creased, as though she could read my expression. I the top of her little golden head gently, grabbing a white cloth and rubbing down the kitchen table.

I laughed as two teenage boys ran into the house, bickering loudly about socks. They were followed by a wide-eyed, curly-headed four year old who was sucking on a handkerchief, and a pensive young man.

"Vick! Rory! What did I say about you two arguing? And you don't just barge into someone's house!"

Prim smiled, leaving the kitchen to go and greet Hazelle. She smiled and hugged the girl, and I felt a pang of uncalled-for jealousy. Prim picked up a brown parcel from the front door and I smiled to myself.

The baker had been one of my best friends, growing up. They'd lived next door to my parents and I, as we'd owned a tea shop. Often we'd buy cakes and biscuits to accompany our teas from them, and Henry would be the one to bring them over. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Prim raise her eyebrows at me, but pretended not to notice. Besides, Henry was only a friend. I felt sorry for him; Alora had been one of the other merchants' kids, and had always hated the both of us growing up. When I'd married 'One Of Those Awful Seam Kids', her parents had jumped at the chance, and within a year they were married. She still hated him now.

We ate the fresh rolls for breakfast, unable to resist the temptation. I saw Prim's eyes widen, and I realised she'd never had fresh bread before. I watched her expression darken slightly, and could almost see the troubling thoughts swirling around in her mind.

I looked up to see both Hazelle and Gale watching her with similar expressions to mine.

I sighed, and wished that life was fair.

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Shoutouts:

__Narcissa-Weasly: Ikr? It made me feel like I was living in the Capitol :( Bleuch I feel so spoilt! Thanku muchly for all the reviews (:

ihateturkeys: she is cute (: I love Milo. Both Milos (: Milo is awesome. But not as awesome as peanut butter. :D

Sam's Vampire Girl: Yay for caffeine! Except I can't have any atm :( O wells. WE SHALL START A PETITION AGAINST THE MULTICOLOURED LEFT SOCK STEALING GNOEMES IF IT'S THE LAST THING WE EVER DO! ;)

_** bella-sk8er: Hmmm throw something... a bowl? A pot of flowers? Prim? AHAHA, jokes jokes. But what shalll he throw? that is the question. Ty for your epic review!**_

_****__** crescentrose22: Yeah :( There's a Ms Everdeen POV in this one, but it's a little short. :L I'll do another one soon (:**_

_****__****___Honey Bea 1859: You are so awesomely awesome it cannot be put into words. :D ahaha, me and my sis tried making pancakes the other week... it was not actually that bad. By that I mean we didn't blow up the house, which is a vast improvement. ahaha, jokes, but wouldn't it be hilarious if we had blown up the house? Cooking pancakes? ahah :D

__MountainAir: yeah, defs (: This Hazelle POV is dedicated to you and your awesomeness (:


	21. Forgiveness Divine

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_**Hiya (: Remember me? (Looks at floor sheepishly)**_

_**I'm baaaaaaaaack and ready to write lots of depressing stuff! Waiiit... that came out wrong...**_

Just to clear things up in advance, I know the mockingjay sumbol isn't meant to be out until the games are finished, but I'm playing with the idea that there was already a revolution in swing and Katniss was just chosen to be a part.

_**PeanutButterQueen AKA Jassy Smiley **_

_**PS yes I know the fonts retarded, I had to keep it cause it kept deleting parts when I changed it :( sorry**_

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MountainAir: no probs (: It was fun doing different POVs, and I think Prim's that sort of person who just brightens up every room she walks into. She's so cute hey? :) Hope you like the chap

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** Bella-sk8er: I ********almost forgot to add it :( But I did. Personally, I would have liked him to throw the table as well, but I felt this was more suited to the relationship between the two. Hope you like it!**

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**Vanity Storm: naww (: thanks for the PM btw, is it fixed yet?**

She-Who-Stole-The-Cookie: First off, welcome to the family of reviewers who are epically epic because they are epic. ;) Thankyou sooo much for all your awesome reviews! You're so sweet! I'm not from the UK sadly, though I wish I was. How cool would it be to live in Europe? Anyway, yeah, my vocabulary's a little weird sometimes :L Yeah, Gale pisses me off too. He's annoying. And Irritating. And not very likeable. :( Poor Prim. ahwell

ihateturkeys: naww (: hmmm, I feel that is a suitable request. Rory could be an interesting component... I shall think about it :D

Honey Bea 1859: Rofl, have your parents let you into the kitchen again yet? Plus, last year you were fine at cooking!

Sam's VampireGirl: ROFLOL! I should add that in somewhere! They're stealing my legwarmers too :'( I had really cute ones and all.

crescentrose22: Ty very much (: laptops ALL fixed now thank goodness. My school sent out a whole bunch of faulty chargers, but its all good now. The whole top of the charger fell off and all :L ahwell I love Gale and Prim's relationship too (: Except he annoys me. Why do I make him so annoying? hmm

yas1703: Welcome to the family of awesome reviewers (evil laugh) nah jokes, I'm not evil. Or am i... This is making my head hurt. You know that mood where you don't even think, you just talk? Yeah. Except in this case I'm just typing. Weird. I didn't even know it was possible to babble via fanfic. This has gotta be a world record! Stopping babbling now rofl. Thankyou for the review (: Yep, purple monkeys are awesome. And mushrooms and unicorns too.

Narcissa-Weasly: Ikr? Ms Everdeens family are horrible people! :( Poor ms everdeen. Ahaha, the second quote is my fave too (: Prim's so cute ^_^ aha, Hazelle is very intimidating. I shall put more of her in the next chappie (:

superamazingawesomeness: why thankyou kind reviewer (: Welcome to the family

Cheerleader95: ROFL! How did you find that out? Now I kinda feel like going around saying 'tilda' all the time. Tilda tilda tilda tilda tilda tilda...

**********Serious Vampire: Thankyou very much (: I think I shall, I _was_ going to mainly talk about Prim and her life, but I'm putting alot of description about the Games than I though I would. I shall change the rating soon-ish (If its already changed when you read it then I already changed it... that was probably very obvious)**

shadowangel999: :( you too? I only just got back from holidays and I'm DROWNING in hw! :'( wahhhh!

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**********Prim's POV**

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The Games are resumed early – eight o'clock. We fill into the stuffy living room, sprawled out on the floor. Mother and Hazelle sit on two half-broken wooden chairs Father carved before he died.

It's freezing outside, but I feel almost overheated. The measly fire in the corner threatens to smoke out the room, but omits hardly any warmth. It must be just me. My ears are ringing, my head aching and my stomach has a constant stabbing sensation. I bite my lip, trying to ignore the voice in my head that says the odds are against her. My sister is very likely to die today.

The television flickers, and suddenly we're absorbed in the games.

My hopes are conflicted. I know that Peeta and Katniss receive more sponsors as a couple, but I don't want to see Gale hurt. Soon enough, Katniss will kiss Peeta and Gale will storm out, like he always runs away from everything.

I just didn't expect it to be the first thing.

It starts off with a small clip of Katniss kissing Peeta. Her eyes are closed and she looks almost happy; either she's gotten to be a very good actor or she actually likes him. My eyes widen as it freezes, and a string of pink flowers frames the two in a heart, with the words 'The Starcrossed Lovers From District 12' written across it. The image is tinged pink and Claudius Templesmith's voice is in the background, exclaiming how sweet the two are, and that it was such a pity their first kiss occurred during offtime, but thank goodness they'd managed to capture it anyway.

I quickly look over at Gale, who's glare depicts the phrase 'If Looks Could Kill'. I know he's fantasising about killing Peeta right now. He looks at me and abruptly throws a vase from the table at a spot next to the television. He picks up the table as well, but I lay my hand on his arm. He looks at me with a pained expression, freezing for a moment. This is the most contact we've had in days. I plead with him with my eyes, and the spell is broken. He drops the table and storms out, and I glare at his retreating figure.

"Running away again?" I call out cruelly. He doesn't stop, continuing walking.

I attempt to shove the incident to the back of my mind, and turn my attention back to the screen. Everyone's staring at me wide-eyed, but a glare from me means they turn around quickly. Hazelle shakes her head, looking as though she wants to laugh. I huff and sit back down, focusing on the Games.

Cato and Clove are still working together. They're an odd match, but I suppose you can't choose who you're in the Games with. Their sponsors obviously tried to mimic the 'Star-crossed Lovers' image Katniss and Peeta are depicting, but they're failing miserably. It's obvious Clove detests Cato, try as he may to please her. I have a feeling the kiss they shared before was planned. They're still running extremely low on supplies, since Rue and Katniss blew them all up. They're continuously foraging for food; last night they were eating worms.

Thresh is hiking up the side of a mountain in the east section of the arena. He never stays in the same place for long; every night he sleeps somewhere different. He's always on the move, always calculating. I bet the Careers are sorry they weren't able to convince him to be one of them. He's very resourceful as well; making traps and lures to catch food, finding the edible plants, filtering water using his own method.

The girl from five is coping pretty well. She is able to set a decent snare, and is pretty handy with her knife, but she mostly relies on her speed and agility and acquires most of her food and supplies by stealing. The only one she hasn't stolen from is Thresh; he always seems to be watching his pack. She's stolen from the Careers numerous times in turn, also creating conflict between the two. Katniss and Peeta are too tired to notice, and when they do, they're mostly confused. She slips in at times when Peeta's asleep and Katniss is hunting and drinks the leftover stew, or breaks off pieces of bread, before disappearing quickly.

Katniss and Peeta are, for all intents and purposes, doing the worst out of the five. Peeta's condition is continuing to deteriorate at an alarming pace, putting both his and Katniss' life in danger. While Katniss stays to look after him, she isn't watching the entrances properly, or hunting for food enough. They've been sent some food from the sponsors – at times where they showed more affection, I might add – but its running low.

Gale creeps back in just before Katniss pulls off the bandages, trying hards not to be noticed. I ignore him completely, folding my arms and glaring at the screen.

Katniss strips Peeta's leg of the bandages from yesterday, and pales visibly. I can see why. She may not be as good as Mother and I at identifying infection, but blood poisoning is fairly easy to identify. She gasps loudly, her eyes widening. I mentally calculate the amount of time Peeta has left. Even Gale looks at the pair pityingly, though I think the pity is directed more at Katniss than Peeta.

She makes a feeble attempt to cover her own alarm, telling him that it isn't really that bad. Peeta gives her a pitying look, as though he really doesn't want this to be harder than it already is. After a second of hesitation, debating whether or not it would make it worse, he sighs gently and tells her "I know what blood poisoning is, Katniss."

A look of panic crosses her face, and she babbles on, trying mostly to convince herself that the situation isn't hopeless. Peeta agrees, though it's clear he realises the unlikelihood of him making it home. I realise that Katniss tends to pretend everything is okay; it's her way of dealing with things. She figures if she can't act it out long enough, it'll come true. Insecurity runs in our family, and I guess even my sister can't escape it.

Once again I'm struck by the cruel nature of life in the districts. Families are torn apart every day by the poor conditions, the famine, the disease, the lack of money and resources. And if you manage to escape all that, there's always the Hunger Games.

Katniss goes out of the cave, obviously desperate to escape it and go hunting. Peeta's expression falls; it's almost as though he blames himself for the entire situation. His face shows both physical and mental pain, mingled with exhaustion. I feel a pang of sympathy for him. He'd do anything to make Katniss happy.

The television flicks to Cato and Clove, once again finding my sister's situation boring. They seem to be making a poor attempt at traps. I snort; even I'm not that hopeless. Gale grins at me and I recall our brief partnership where we'd make traps and hunt together. Okay. He'd hunt, and I'd watch. It was still fun.

Cato is taking advantage of the 'starcrossed lovers' act again, making goo-goo eyes at her, while she tries to grit her teeth and ignore him. I wonder if he actually likes her, or if their mentor suggested it. I choose the latter. Clove is decent with her knife, and Cato is good with brute strength, but both are used to human combat. They completely miscalculate their movement when they try to catch their prey, and their feeble attempts at snares catch a grand total of nothing. It's almost amusing to watch them fend for themselves like all the other tributes, rather than having everything virtually handed to them at the Cornucopia.

They have no other food whatsoever, and they can't exactly

Clove finally has enough; she cries in rage and frustration, throwing her knife blindly into the trees. She stalks off without a word to Cato, who looks just as frustrated. He glares in her direction for a good two minutes before he realises he's meant to be in love with her. Quickly, he rearranges his expression into one of sympathy and love. Or, at least, his interpretation of it. Gale laughs at the attempt.

The girl from five is sitting up in a tree, lazily slurping some of the stew she stole off my sister. Gale glares at her image on the screen, knuckles turning white. She licks her lips after, and pulls out a whole loaf she managed to steal from the Careers. Their sponsors sent them three this morning, and when Clove discovered one was gone she cried with rage. They are very obviously blaming each other for the disappearances of the food, so Five is gradually able to take more and more. It's a clever theory; I just wish she would only steal from the Careers. Katniss' and Peeta's supplies are running low as it is, can she not let them alone? She's not exactly in the best condition though; her arm's angled in an odd and slightly sickening way. I remember her twisting it as she swung down from a tree. She's tried to use her jacket as a sling, but she's done it all wrong. I shake my head at her poor first aid skills.

Thresh is surviving the best out of the five. He doesn't have to rely on anyone else for food or supplies. He's able to create a spear out of a rock, a branch and some algae he found in the lake. He already has two knives he took from a couple of dead tributes. Despite his brute force and obvious ability, he has hardly killed any of the tributes. The girl from District 3 picked a fight with him, and he killed her off and the same deal with the boy from four. Other than that, he really hasn't had to murder anyone. I think he feels the same way about the Games as my sister and Peeta.

He's sitting on the ground, drawing in the dirt. It's as though he's trying to comfort himself. Many of the children in the Districts write or draw in the dirt, so as to avoid wasting paper. I've seen Rory and Vick create maps of entire cities. He deliberately traces a particular shape, first the body, then the head, then wings...

I frown at the picture. He's drawn my sister's mockingjay.

The image only lasts a second, before it smashes to that of my sister and Peeta again.

For some reason, it sends chills down my spine. I can't help but feel that the symbol holds some sort of significance. I look up and smile at the screen; Katniss is telling Peeta the story of when she bought Lady. I cuddle Buttercup to my chest, smiling at the screen. I feel an odd urge to reach out and touch the screen, see if I can put my hand through and stroke my sister's hair, hold her hand.

I am startled to feel someone's hand on mine.

Gale is looking at me, his expression one of sympathy and compassion... and apology. He's not good with words; like Katniss he doesn't say stuff, he does it. And I know by the way he's looking at me that he's saying sorry.

I give him a small smile in return and return my gaze to the screen... just in time for another announcement.

The screen displays five windows, Claudius Templesmith in the centre. He's babbling on in that irritating way of his, inviting them all to a feast.

"This is no ordinary feast," he says, eyes sparkling. "Each of you needs something desperately. Six packs with your District numbers will be placed on a table at the Cornucopia at dawn. Think hard about refusing my invitation. For some of you, this will be your last chance."

Oh God.

I put my head in my hands, and hear Gale groan next to me. Mother whimpers and Hazelle pats her arm. Rory and Vick are staring at the television, open-mouthed. Even Posy seems distressed.

Because whether she loves Peeta or not, there is no way Katniss is missing that feast tomorrow.

I look up at the television and watch my sister's calculating expression as she thinks out her plans.

My sister is probably going to die tomorrow. 


	22. Hysteria

_**Hey guys (:**_

_**Sorry for the late UD, so much stuff on atm! I'll probably have to limit my UDs to once a week for awhile, sorry :( :(**_

_**This chappie is dedicated to EStrunk for all your awesome reviews - you are totally awesome and thankyou so much!**_

_**as well as Sam's VampireGirl if you're still reading - hope you like the gnome reference ;)**_

_**and last but not least Honey Bea 1859 for being so totally awesome (:**_

**Prim's POV**

The sound of rain pattering on the tin roof is echoing off all of the walls. There's a constant _drip, drip, dripp_-ing adding to the noise, and thunder reverberates every five minutes or so. Posy's in the next room, sniffling; we can hear it from the Laundry Room, and Vick's mumbling in his sleep – something about Gale and muttations. I shiver violently, and Rory looks over at me from the basket he's working with. He looks exhausted; there are plum-coloured shadows under his grey eyes, and he's lost weight. His clothes (Gale's old hand-me-downs) are far too big for him, hanging off his slender frame.

I frown, and stop stirring my basket. Rory's staring out the window; every so often lightening flashes. I wonder if the history books are right and lightning is meant to be attracted by metal. If so, this lightning's synthetic, but honestly it's not surprising.

"What?" he asks, self-consciously. I blink, and realise I've been staring at him.

"Nothing," I say quickly, shaking my head so my curls fall over my face, hiding my flaming cheeks. I peek out from behind my fringe, peering at him. He catches my gaze frowns.

"Seriously, Prim," he says. "What is it?"

I sigh. "You just look tired is all," I shrug. "Though I guess that's not surprising."

He nods, leaning against his stirring-branch. He's grown so tall lately; we always used to be the same height. Currently, he's almost forty centimetres taller than me; nearly as tall as Gale. I always feel so tiny compared to everyone. Paired with the gold ringlets, everywhere I go there are people calling me 'cute'. Sure, it's nice sometimes, but I feel like that's all people see of me. Katniss's little sister, cute little Primrose.

He sighs as well. "I am tired. I think we all are, and not just physically," he adds. "There's an emotional strain put on us, especially being the ones who have to watch. It doesn't help that we don't get to watch all of it either; our imaginations constantly conjuring situations they might be forced into, things that might happen... There's a reason the Capitol uses it to keep the Districts in line."

I'm stunned.

Rory and I were close when we were younger, but for the last couple of years we've grown apart. I'd forgotten his uncanny knack for describing a situation psychologically, but in a completely calm way. He's almost the polar opposite to Gale; he knows all of the things that are happening, the situation we're facing, and the inequality of our lifestyle compared to the Capitol's. But, unlike Gale, he knows that things can't be changed overnight, and getting worked up over them won't do anything but cause more discord.

I smile gently at him.

"You're right of course," I say, leaning against my own branch, resting my chin on the end. The bark scratches my skin, and I wrinkle my nose.

He smiles at me, a full smile. It strikes me that Rory is one of those people who smile with their whole faces; his nose scrunched up and his eyes crinkled at the edges. He pats my curls and I huff, folding my arms; he knows I hate people touching my hair. He laughs and enveloped me in a hug and I breathe in his earthy scent. There's a hint of lavender – I gave the idea to Hazelle one time to use flowers – and, to my surprise, primrose. Katniss used to come back with them all the time when she went hunting; I guess Gale's been bringing them back for a sense of normalcy.

Ha. Normalcy.

I laugh aloud and Rory looks at me for a moment, before laughing too. In a matter of seconds, we're both hysterical, rolling about on the floor like a couple of idiots. I'm clutching my stomach, wiping away tears when Hazelle walks in, raising an eyebrow at the two of us. We fall dead silent as she enters, but then I start giggling uncontrollably and we both end up cracking up laughing again. Hazelle chuckles lightly, smiling at us. Her grey eyes twinkle and she brushes a brown curl behind her ear. She's clutching a basket of wet coloureds – merchants' clothes obviously – in her right arm, leaning against the door frame.

"What are you both laughing at?" she smiles.

Rory grins at me. "I don't know." he chuckles.

We start laughing again. In the back of my mind I realise I'm letting off steam, and letting go of the pent-up emotions inside, but most of me really doesn't care. It feels nice to laugh, be happy. Normal stuff. Again, the word normal strikes me and I realise how little normalcy my life actually contains.

Hazelle grins at us. "Sounds like fun," she winks. I giggle again, but manage to stop the hysteria.

Another crash of thunder echoes, and Posy shrieks. Hazelle lets out a long, breathy sigh, before handing the basket over to Rory and going to check on her. Vick groans from across the room, turning over in his sleep. He's mumbling about gnomes stealing his left toe-sock or something. I raise an eyebrow at Rory, who shrugs.

"Gale used to talk in his sleep," he laughs, shaking his head. He walks back to his basket, but shifts it another half a metre or so toward mine. I do the same, so we can still talk.

I grin. "Let me guess. It was about food, yeah?"

He chuckles lightly. "Nup. Well, yeah sometimes. Mostly it was just a jumble of random phrases. One time he was shrieking about butterflies."

We laugh again, and Vick rolls over, mumbling about the gnomes. The sound of Hazelle's soothing voice from the next room drifts across to us and I close my eyes, smiling. She's singing a lullaby to her, the same one Father used to sing to me. I hum it under my breath, remembering the sound of his voice, the way he used to hug me and Katniss. She misses him even more than I do, even though she won't admit it.

The lullaby ends and I'm aware of Rory's eyes on me. My cheeks colour and I look down at the basket. The night passes fairly uneventfully from there, but when it's time to leave, he hugs me for a moment too long. It shouldn't mean anything, but I get this weird fluttering feeling in my chest; the same one I used to get when I was looking at Gale.

I'm so confused.

**Rory's POV**

Our lives are so messed up.

My brother has been in love with the same girl for over four years.

This particular girl has been sent into the Hunger Games and forced to pretend she's in love with her partnering tribute.

The aforementioned partnering tribute actually _is_ in love with her.

Her sister is in love with my brother.

I'm in love with Prim.

And the Capitol is dangling over us like a sword on a rope, except that if it were we would have cut the rope long ago so as not to endure anymore pain. Instead, we are forced to live in poverty, starving, sick, dirty and diseased, while the Capitol's citizens themselves eat food enough to feed two districts for a year, gulping it down in a week. They have medicine, clean water, abundant resources. Time to waste dressing in fashions and attending silly gatherings. Food that none of us in the districts ever could dream about.

I sigh, stirring the basket of clothes again. Luke-warm, smelly water drips onto my bare feet, making tracks in the grime. The baskets are home-made – Mum wove them out of grass and leaves from around the Seam – so they don't hold the water in very well anyway. There's a small puddle beneath each of the baskets, gradually getting bigger.

I shiver slightly; while the rain is vastly preferable to the snow from last week, it's still extremely cold. Vick's got the blanket for tonight, which means I'll either have to use one of Gale's old jumpers or go without. I mentally weigh the size of the bruise I'll receive from taking Gale's things against the cold I'll get if I don't. I decide to go without; telling myself that going next door to get my cold fixed doesn't have anything to do with it...

Even though it's the deciding factor.

_Drip, drip. Drip, drip._

I wipe a drop of water from the side of my face, shaking my head so the droplets splash about me, showering the already damp concrete floor with rain. A few drops fall on Prim, but she's too deep in thought to notice. I frown, sighing, and another drop falls on my face. Wrinkling my nose, I shove my basket a few feet to the left – avoiding the water sloshing out of it – and put a bucket where I was. I picked up my branch and started stirring again.

Another droplet fell on my nose.

I ignored it, too tired to fix the leak. Besides, it would probably mean replacing the whole roof; and didn't have anywhere near enough tin or wood. It already looked a little like a patchwork quilt – like the ones on the carts that merchants buy – with all of the different coloured tin and wood pieces. A rusty, mouldy patchwork quilt.

I look up to find Prim's eyes on me, her expression troubled.

"What?" I say, frowning myself. I immediately feel uncomfortable, rubbing the back of my neck self-consciously.

She blinks a few times, before muttering "Nothing," and averting her eyes. Her eyelashes dusted her pink cheeks, which were growing pinker by the second.

_She's so cute when she blushes..._

She looks up at me through her fringe, her blue eyes curious and embarrassed at the same time. I frown, trying to stop thinking about how cute she is.

"Seriously, Prim. What is it?"

_Stop feeling self-conscious!_

She sighs heavily. "You just look tired is all," she says, shrugging. "Though I guess that's not surprising."

She frowns again, her eyebrows knitting together.

I'm _tired? She looks dead on her feet._

Her big, clear blue eyes are bloodshot; lined with purple. There are dark shadows beneath them, giving her a tortured, yet beautiful quality.

_Stop that._

I sigh, going with a political answer instead of 'you look like a walking zombie'.

"I am tired. I think we all are, and not just physically. There's an emotional strain put on us, especially being the ones who have to watch. It doesn't help that we don't get to watch all of it either; our imaginations constantly conjuring situations they might be forced into, things that might happen... There's a reason the Capitol uses it to keep the Districts in line."

Shrugging, I sigh again, going back to my basket. I peer up at Prim inconspicuously, and find her staring at me with an awed expression, mouth parted slightly. I wonder why we stopped being friends.

I look back down at my basket, feigning ignorance. The water really does smell now, and I wonder if it's completely hygienic to 'wash' people's things in it. Probably another reason most merchants don't usually come to us.

"You're right of course," Prim smiles weakly. She's so much paler than usual; like she's bleached her skin.

There's a moment of silence, then an odd sound. I blink, glancing at Prim. She's giggling with this strange look in her eyes, and then the hysteria bubbles over and she laughs outright. I start chuckling because it's infectious, even though I know it's not particularly healthy for her to be like this. My hysteria bubbles over too I guess, because seconds later we're on the floor laughing our heads off. My stomach hurts and my cheeks ache but I still can't stop laughing. Everything is funny to us, and every time we stop laughing one of us snorts and we start back up again.

Mum walks in, looking just as tired as Prim. She's so behind with the Laundry at the moment, plus the stress of having Katniss in the Games. I don't think she's even thought about the fact that if she dies, we'll have half as much food as usual. She's too busy missing her for her presence.

She's clutching the only basket of merchants' clothes we have, the third wash for this particular batch. Ever since Mrs Mellark came back and made her clean their clothes again, she does all the merchants' things more than once. She looks at the two of us, still giggling, and chortles herself.

"What's so funny?" she asks, smiling. It makes her look less tired, but only marginally so.

"I don't know," I answer truthfully. Prim snorts and we start laughing again, cackling like a pair of hyenas. There's something vaguely satisfying about laughing for no reason.

Mum grins at us again, showing her missing tooth. She's lucky only to have one, I've already had three out.

"Sounds like fun," she winks at us, and we start giggling again.

Another crash of thunder echoes, and Posy shrieks. I look over in the hallway, feeling a pang of empathy for her; we used to take turns staying up with her. Gale stopped after he claimed to be too tired to hunt, and Mum told me I didn't have to anymore; even though I wanted to. She lets out a sigh, handing the basket to me and going to check on her.

Vick moans in his sleep, muttering about those damn multicoloured-toe-sock-stealing-gnomes again. I roll my eyes; he has the _weirdest_ nightmares.

Prim raises an eyebrow at me and I shrug.

"Gale used to talk in his sleep," I add thoughtfully, chuckling lightly.

Prim smiles brightly. "Let me guess. It was about food yeah?" her eyes are twinkling, making them seem less bloodshot.

I laugh again. "Nup. Well, yeah sometimes. Mostly it was just a jumble of random phrases. One time he was shrieking about butterflies."

We start laughing again and my stomach hurts. Prim closes her eyes and I realise she's listening to Mum sing. She hums the song, a sad look passing across her face. I repress the urge to hold her and never let her go. She just stands there, humming, looking so vulnerable. I'm honestly about to hug her when she opens her eyes and I realise the song's over. She looks down at her basket, and my cheeks colour. I feel bad for intruding upon her moment.

The rest of the night is almost painfully quiet; I keep cursing myself for everything I said, convinced I said it all wrong. _Not that it would matter anyway_, I remind myself. _She loves Gale._

Mum comes in, insisting that Prim goes home and sleeps; her eyes portray what I feel. I'm a little worried she might collapse on the spot.

I hug her for as long as possible, inhaling her scent and wanting to never let her go. She blinks when I let her go, standing there for a second before exiting.

I sigh, wondering if she'll ever even know my feelings for her.

* * *

**_R&R lovelies!_**

* * *

Narcissa-Weasly: oops sorry bout that :L six contestants, six, six, six :L ahwell you're totally awesome

__nerdsman92: tu est tres l'awesome ma copine (: missed writing :D

_** TribeSpy: nawww (: trying a PrimxRory thing to see the feedback, if its awful tell me :L**_

_****__** crescentrose22: yeah defs, Peeta's awesome :) GO TEAM PEETA! It's way depressing that guys in realy life are never as good as guys in books :(**_

_****__****___bella-sk8er: why thankyou m'dear. :) almost forgot it :L i would've been so cut if I went back and read it and he didn't have a tantrum :(

__shadowangel999: yeah he's a weirdo :L I like Peeta better. YAY PEETA!


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